


I Want To Write You A Song

by wideworldoffanfics



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 109,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23158882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wideworldoffanfics/pseuds/wideworldoffanfics
Summary: A song for every moment.Ruby Manning has a secret. Actually, she has a few. She still has her favorite childhood stuffed animal. She loves trashy tabloids. She hates doctors. She wants to be a writer. And she has a pen pal.Harry Styles has a secret. Which isn't easy since he's an international music sensation. It seems like everyone knows everything about him and his life. His girlfriends, his troubles, everything. But he has one thing for himself, his pen pal.(A/N: I've taken creative liberties to fit the story. Also, I do not own any of the pictures to be used later on)
Relationships: Harry Styles/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 68





	1. One: She-Harry // July 1

_Nine in the morning the man drops his kids off at school_

_And he's thinking of you, like all of us do  
Sends his assistant for coffee in the afternoon  
Around 1:32, like he knows what to do_

It was a reoccurring dream. For the most part. The subject never changed. The subject being _her_. They said that the people in your dreams were all people you had met. He disagreed. He had never met her. He couldn’t have. He would have remembered someone so beautiful. She changed every night. She was never the same person on the outside, but she was always the same on the inside. Her voice was a melody that was never the same. Her voice a song he never had enough time to memorize.

She always smelled like strawberries. She always had a book. Sparingly, she laughed at his jokes. Dark black ink stained her hands and forearms. A tattoo of a pearl oyster on the inside of her right wrist.

These were details he had collected over the years. Her letters always smelled of strawberry. Not overwhelming, but fragrant enough that he knew it was her favorite scent. He knew she was a reader. So many of her letters contained the stories of the books she read. Fantasies with dragons and knights, princesses in towers. Long-winded romances set in times gone by. Space travels. Saving the world. Magic. Mystery. Love. Several times, she had admitted that his jokes weren’t funny. Maybe, he had noted, it was the fact they were told on paper and not in person. She didn’t agree. She was a writer. She loved books and she wanted to write them. Her guilty pleasure was ink. Handwritten words that spilled over the paper like a spell. She had a collection of fountain pens and quills that she kept under her bed. And the tattoo. One singular in comparison to the several that decorated his own skin. It was a dedication to her father. That was all he knew on that.

She didn’t like to talk about her father. He had asked why once and never received an answer to that question.

When he was ten, his mother put him in a pen pal program. It was a mostly anonymous system. Open World had an unusual way of operating, but it worked. All he had to go on was her name.

Ruby.

They were the same age. He told her things no one knew.

And he was pretty sure he was in love with her. If one can really love someone they’ve only exchanged letters with for fourteen years. He loved her words, the sharp scrawl of dark, blotted letters. They’d never suggested meeting. It seemed…wrong to disturb their fixed relationship. Besides, what if they hated each other?

_  
She, she lives in daydreams with me  
She's the first one that I see, and I don't know why  
I don't know who she is_

Like a fire, she consumed him. The thought of her was infectious. Who was she, this vixen of the night? Hours of time were spent fantasizing about her. The color of her eyes, how easy it would be to get lost there. Running his hands through her hair. Was it short? Long? The color of hay in the sun or black as night? Did she have freckles? Glasses, contacts, or was she blessed with perfect vision? Was she tall, taller than him? Or small and short? And her voice, God, he had spent days on her voice alone. The way it would capture him, and he’d hear it long after she was gone. Her laugh would be the sound of Heaven.

None of it would matter in the end, if they did meet. No matter what, he’d think she was perfect.

“Harry.”

He blinked, now thrusted into his life. “Wha?”

Mitch rolled his eyes. “We were rehearsing. And then we weren’t. Again.”

Perhaps he did not have a hold on his daydreaming tendency. He really couldn’t help it when it came to her. The idea of her was so tantalizing, so vast, he couldn’t help but explore it.

“Sorry.” He mumbled. “Where were we?”

Mitch shook his head. “Done. Call it a day?”

Not necessarily did he want to call it a day. But it needed to be done. He wasn’t in the headspace for it.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Mitch excused it. They’d try again tomorrow.

Hastily, he packed his things up and dashed from the studio. Thursday. He would have a letter.

Traffic was agonizing to sit through. All that was on his mind was the letter waiting for him at his flat. The envelope would be an off-white, almost yellow color. Her words would be scrawled on it in that jarringly perfect writing.

And inside, would be the letter. What it said, he had no idea. Detailed descriptions of the happenings of her life since her last letter. Responses to anything he had sent in his letter. Books she was wrapped up in. Her life seemed infinite. There was no end to her. And he relished it. He soaked in the details she provided, knowing that no one else was provided access to that part of her. _He_ was the one she had chosen to bear it all too. A total stranger.

He did the same. There was, he assumed, no harm at all in laying one’s life out to a complete stranger. They weren’t given access to full names. He knew she lived in Los Angeles and she was aware that he was currently in London. Nothing too revealing, but the deep stuff was all on the table.

The paper would smell faintly like strawberries. Like always.

As soon as they pulled up to the building, he dashed from the car. Behind him, Mitch was yelling a ‘see you later’ as the car drove off. Harry all but skidded into the lobby of the flat complex.

Juggling his keys from his pocket, he made his way to the mail room. It was a small room comprised of rows of little mail boxes. He opened the box belonging to his residence. Inside was a thick, yellowed envelope. Smiling to himself, he took the envelope. A little piece of treasure, all for him. _  
_**_To: Harry_**

**_From: Ruby_ **

Bouncing on the balls of his feet, shaking the letter in his hand, he waited for the lift. It was an agonizing five minutes before it appeared. He stepped in eagerly, nearly colliding with an elderly woman and her small dog.

“Sorry!” He steadied her, helping her inside the doors.

“S’all right, lovey.” Her eyes fell to his shaking hand, the envelope pattering against his thigh. “Aha, I see what’s got your knickers all twisted. You’ve got a letter from your sweetheart!” Her own shaking hand motioned to the letter. “I’m so happy to see young ones still writing each other letters. It’s much more romantic.”

Harry nodded, the comment about his sweetheart nearly going unnoticed. Nearly. “Oh, no. She’s not…No.” What was she? She wasn’t just a pen pal. Friends? Hardly, he couldn’t say that. He felt more for this girl than to call her a friend.

The woman ignored his disagreements. “My Franklin used to write me when he was in the War. He was stationed in…where was it? Oh, yes, Dunkirk. He nearly died before the evacuation.” The small dog pawed at the leg of his pants. Harry smiled softly and leaned down to scratch it behind the ears.

“How long have you been married?”

“Would’ve been sixty-two years this October. Franklin passed two years ago. Now it’s just little Gert and I.” She waved down at the dog.

Sixty years of marriage. He almost couldn’t imagine a love like that. “I’m sorry.” It was customary, he had to say it. Apologize for a loss he had no way of preventing.

She shook her head at him. “He gave me the best years of my life. Six beautiful children. I think we’re on thirteen grandchildren now.” She reached out, touching the letter. “When it’s real, it will last for eternity. I’ll see my Franklin again. And if you really love the girl, don’t let her go.”

The bell rang out and the doors slid open. She stepped from the lift, whistling for the dog.

“Your name?” Harry poked from the lift. “I never got it.”

“Linette. I live in 7D if you’d like a cuppa sometime.”

“I’d like that.”

The doors slid shut. It was another few seconds before the elevator made it to the top floor. He resided in a luxurious penthouse apartment at the top of the building. He keyed in and immediately settled on the sofa to read her letter. Carefully, he opened the envelope and took out the letter. The light smell of strawberry wafted as he unfolded the paper. A smile graced his face as he saw the familiar sight of her words.

**_Harry,_ **

**_First things first, hi! I hope this gets to you on time. I know we have a standing day and I was terrible this week. The Open World office said it may be late and I all but threw a fit to make sure it would arrive by Thursday. No doubt they hate me now and I can never show my face again. Then again, how would we talk if I never went back inside? It’s not like I have your address or phone number._ **

**_Anyway. How are you? Well, I hope? I know in your last letter you mentioned feeling tired lately. You really need to make sure you’re resting properly. Your health is important. And work, how is that? I wish you’d tell me what you do. You know I work at a bookstore._ **

**_Speaking of, I’ve been pulling so many extra shifts lately that soon I’ll be able to publish my book on my own. That is, if I ever finish it. I have the worst case of writer’s block and I’m scared it’s going to last forever. I’m practically running the store myself now. Thatch never stops in anymore since promoting me to manager. Derry always needs her shifts covered for something. And the new college kid Thatch hired hardly ever comes in on time. Or at all._ **

**_On the topic of books, I finished_ ** **War and Peace _and was thoroughly impressed. I’ve just begun_ Anna Karenina _. I can’t tell you much about it, I’m not very far in. It’s looking to be a dense read so it may take a while. All I’ve got so far is that it’s about love, life, and family in Imperial Russia. Anna’s brother has cheated on his wife and she’s been sent for to resolve the problem and bring peace. She’s married with a son, also._**

**_Marriage! My God, I almost forgot! My brother is getting married! I’ve told you about Grant, I think._ **

She had. Her older brother by three years. Twenty-seven. A serial monogamist. They got along, on occasion. They possessed wildly different views on the world.

**_Her name is Talia. I’ve never met her, Grant says she’s fantastic, out of this world, amazing. I’m going to be so blown away and impressed that he’s landed a girl like her, so I’m told. Mom also likes her, which says a LOT because she’s despised all of his girlfriends. He’s coming to Los Angeles in a few weeks to visit and he mentioned bringing Talia along if she could get the time off work._ **

**_This one has a job! The last one didn’t, if you recall. She wanted to marry Grant for his money. Which, understandable, but also a mistake because you would have to really love him to stand living with him. I say to Talia, “Good luck.”_ **

**_This is going to sound weird, brace yourself. I saved it for last because of this reason. I was thinking the other day about how we’ve never met or communicated by any means except letter. And don’t get me wrong, I love the letter writing, I do! I just find it a little…strange that in the fourteen years we’ve been writing, we’ve never spoken on the phone. We’ve never even discussed it. You know I live in Los Angeles, if you ever find yourself in town or maybe want to visit. And I’m aware you live in London. Just throwing it out that I’ve always wanted to see London. Along with the rest of the world, but that doesn’t matter right now._ **

**_Sorry, that was weird. Wasn’t it? Our letters are enough, more than so. They’ve always been something I’ve treasured and held close in my heart. I really do enjoy this. Truly._ **

**_With love,_ **

**_Ruby_ **

**_P.S. If you want, here’s my number. For…I don’t know. In case you need to talk at two a.m. or something._ **

Sure enough, her phone number was scribbled down on the paper.

It was the first time either of them had suggested meeting. He’d thought of it loads of times, but never put it on paper. And then, she’d been brave enough to give him her telephone number.

Harry took out his phone and saved the number under a new contact. His finger hovered over the ‘send message’ icon. After a long moment, he put his phone on sleep.

She knew her letters always arrived on Thursdays. If he texted right away, he’d seem desperate. Right?

_  
He takes a boat out, imagines just sailing away  
And not telling his mates  
He wouldn't know what to say  
  
_

Harry saw no harm in flying out to L.A. to meet Ruby. They had known one another for years. Fourteen to be exact. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to meet her. To set eyes on her. Laying to rest years of wondering. Then again, he _liked_ wondering about her. He enjoyed imagining what she looked how, the way her face would relax when she was engrossed in a book, how it would scrunch up in frustration while she wrote. It was pain to only know her in writing, but he liked it that way.

“And we’ll be all set for Los Angeles in two weeks. Sound good?”

Once again, his imagination had gotten ahead of him. Jeff was standing in front of him, arms folded over his chest.

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

Regretfully, Harry nodded. He had heard _something_. “You said something about L.A., right?”

“We’re headed there in two weeks.” Harry asked how long they’d be there. “Few weeks. We’ll try recording there for a while.”

He took out his phone. If there was any good time, it was right then. His breath was uneven as he typed her name in for a new conversation.

 **Getting tired of writing me letters?** Confirmed sent at 2:42 p.m.

Almost immediately, there was a ding signaling a reply.

 **Who is this?** 2:43 p.m.

And then…

 **Wait. Harry?** 2:43 p.m.

He glanced up at Jeff, who was looking at his own phone. He smiled giddily before returning to his conversation.

 **Are you writing letters to someone else? And here I felt special…** 2:45 p.m.

 **No one else. Only you.** 2:46 p.m.

 _Only you,_ he thinks to himself. The idea made his heart flutter, but he was quick to remind himself that she meant nothing by it. Before he could think of a response, his phone dinged again.

 **I’m glad you texted me. Thought I may have freaked you out, scared you off.** 2:47 p.m.

She could never. But he couldn’t exactly say that. He didn’t want to freak _her_ out.

 **Work’s been hectic. Speaking of, it’s bringing me to L.A. in a couple weeks…** 2:48 p.m.

“Good, we’re all set. See you tomorrow.” Jeff decided.

Harry pocketed his phone, focusing on his manager. If Jeff had said anything else on the upcoming trip, it had been completely missed on Harry’s end.

“Tomorrow.” Harry agreed.

Jeff let him go without another word. The car was waiting outside. He slid in the backseat and took out his phone. There was a new text from Ruby.

 **You’re shitting me!! You have to promise that you’ll call when you’re in town. And that we’ll finally meet. I think fourteen years is a long time to go without meeting and I won’t go on to fifteen.** 2:51 p.m.

And so, he decided that going to L.A. definitely wouldn’t be a bad thing.

_  
She, she lives in daydreams with me  
She's the first one that I see, and I don't know why  
I don't know who she is  
She, she's the first one that I see  
She lives in daydreams with me, and I don't know why  
I don't know where she is_

Harry, not at all ashamed to admit it, had been texting his childhood pen pal for thirty-six hours straight. The conversation went on and on, never slowing down, never growing dull. There was plenty to talk about in their everyday lives. He imagined the bookstore where she was employed couldn’t have been very busy, considering she was always quick to reply.

He replied when his schedule allowed. As soon as a moment was freed up, he was quickly typing away. His jokes, he realized, were also not funny over text.

It was in the middle of recording when his phone went off. They’d just come back from lunch. His phone was not on silent. That meant that when it dinged, the noise had been recorded in with his voice.

“Shit.” He muttered, stepping away from the microphone.

Mitch looked at him, half-exasperated. They’d been in the studio since eight that morning, only breaking for a thirty-minute lunch. Harry peered through the window. Jeff looked more tired than annoyed. Not a bad sign, but not good either.

“That better be your mother.” Jeff warned.

He fumbled his phone from his pocket. Definitely not his mother.

 **Should I be expecting a letter soon? Or has texting replaced our tradition?** 1:18 p.m.

Oh, shit.

He completely forgot. He had become so entranced with texting her that his mind had blanked on the letter. He’d never missed a letter. Not one. Not when he had been sick, not when he’d been on X Factor. Not even when he had been in One Direction.

She had missed, on occasion. Two letters. Ever. Two weeks in a row. She had missed, but he had still sent his.

He glanced up before responding.

 **It’ll be there. Pen pal’s honor.** 1:21 p.m.

He slipped his phone back in his pocket, making sure it was on silent. His head needed to be in the right space. He needed to get through recording and get home so he could write the letter and get it in the mail.

“Sorry. Won’t happen again.” He told everyone.

“Maybe not today.” Mitch snorted.

Harry shook his head and readjusted his headphones. _  
  
_

_  
Lives for the memory  
A woman who's just in his head  
And she sleeps in his bed  
While he plays pretend  
So pretend_

**_Ruby,_ **

**_Not going to lie, I almost forgot. You were right, texting did me in. But here I am, upholding our age-old promise._ **

**_I don’t remember a promotion at work. Did you tell me? If so, so sorry I blanked. Mind must not be up to par. You’re right, I do need to rest. Work is a little demanding at the moment. We’re launching a new product soon, so we’re all scrambling with work._ **

**_I’m sure you’ll like your brother’s fiancée. And I’m quite sure that she’ll love you. I hope it all goes well with the two of them. This is his…second engagement? Or third? I am NOT poking fun, simply making an observation and hoping his heart isn’t shattered another time._ **

**_I’m sure the writer’s block isn’t as bad as it seems. ~~Whenever I feel stuck~~ \- I’ve heard that taking a little time off helps the creative juices flow. Maybe take a day for yourself, go to a spa…? But who am I to throw out suggestions?_ **

He really didn’t want her to know what he did, who he was. Maybe then, she’d only like him because he was famous. Not because of him. He needed to preserve her perfection for as long as he could. Even if it only lasted a couple more weeks.

**_I’d also speak to your boss about a raise. You’re practically running the entire shop it seems. Least he could do is pay you to reflect the work. Where is Derry always running off to anyway? And do you at least know what the new kid looks like? Enough to recognize him should he make the odd appearance for a shift._ **

**_I’m imagining that by the time you get this, you’ll have finished_ ** **Anna Karenina _. How was it? As enjoyable as Tolstoy’s other works?_**

**_You know how you feel about my job? Not knowing what I do? Well, that’s precisely how I feel about your birthday. It would be nice to know when it is (you know mine), so that I could send you a gift. It’d be easy to send through Open World, won’t even need your address (especially if you think I could be some psycho creep, which I am not). I resolved to your “No-Christmas” gifts rule, but I think the birthday thing is a little much._ **

**_It’s your birthday for Christ sake. A celebration of YOU. I don’t know a person in the world who wouldn’t want to celebrate that._ **

Was that too much? Against his better judgment, he left the comment.

**_I’ll be in L.A. around July fourteenth or so. Have you got time for brunch? Maybe dinner, I don’t really get the idea of brunch if we’re being honest. I’d love to take you out. For dinner, I mean. You’ll have to choose. I’m not up on the good places in L.A._ **

**_Hope to see you soon._ **

**_With love,_**

**_H._ **

Carefully, he folded the paper and stuck it down inside the envelope. He licked it and sealed it before scribbling her name on the front. Harry glanced at the clock; he only had about an hour before the Open World office closed.

It was forty-five minutes later when he arrived, out of breath, red-faced, and sweaty. The woman at the front desk startled when he accidentally slammed the letter down on the countertop.

“Can I help you?” She asked slowly, giving him a look-over.

He took a minute to catch his breath. “Harry Styles. Got a letter. Needs sent today.”

She took the letter from him, reading over the front of the envelope. “I’ll get it out.” She typed on her computer before getting out a larger envelope. She dropped his inside it and sealed it shut. “Have a nice one, dear.”

He nodded, saying the same to her.

_  
  
She, she lives in daydreams with me  
She's the first one that I see, and I don't know why  
I don't know who she is  
She, she's the first one that I see  
She lives in daydreams with me, and I don't know why  
I don't know where she is_

**Got your letter. Now I have an inkling of what your job is ;)** 6:52 p.m.

He’d been staring down at the message for seven minutes. What did she think his job was? There was no way she actually knew. Right?

He sighed, tapping his fingers on the table.

 **Since I hinted at my job, you think I could get a date of birth?** 7:00 p.m.

It was early for him to be in bed, but he was more than exhausted. Recording always seemed to take all the energy out of him. That and running from his flat to the Open World office. It would’ve been loads easier on him to get a car or even a cabbie, but traffic hadn’t seemed very forgiving that afternoon.

 **September 30. Would you like a time as well?** 7:02 p.m.

 _What was she doing,_ he wondered. L.A. was eight hours behind London. Her day was just peaking as his was winding down.

 **No, just a day is good. Thank you.** 7:03 p.m.

 **DO NOT send a gift. I hate gifts.** 7:03 p.m.

Too bad for her. He already had the perfect gift picked out.

 **Can’t make any promises, love.** 7:04 p.m.

He had typed it out and hit send before even realizing what he had said. _Love_. A pet name. Endearing. Affectionate. The most they’d ever shown before was signing each letter ‘with love’, and that, he told himself, was pushing it for him. Who knew how she meant it, most likely as a friend. But he…it meant more to him than friendly, platonic love. She meant more.

Harry watched with fervent eyes as the three dots popped up, signaling that she was typing. They disappeared as quick as they’d shown up.

 **By the way, dinner sounds perfect. I don’t understand brunch either. I know the perfect place, if you like ramen. The good kind, anyway. There’s somewhere else I want to show you, too.** 7:09 p.m.

He let out a breath. Maybe she hadn’t noticed. Or maybe she didn’t read as much into things as he did.

 **I’m a fan of ramen, no worries there.** 7:06 p.m.

And then,

 **Any hint to the mystery location?** 7:07 p.m.

He nearly dozed off waiting for her response that came about twenty minutes later.

 **Absolutely…not! It’s for me to know and you to find out ;)** 7:29 p.m.

He went to sleep with a smile on his face, heart content.


	2. Two: One Thing-Ruby// July 6

_I’ve tried playing it cool_

_But when I’m looking at you_

_I can’t ever be brave_

_Cause you make my heart race_

“Thank you for choosing Jupiter House as your bookseller. When should we expect the shipment?” Her fingers tapped on the edge of the counter.

“Within the week. The middle of the next at the latest.” Thatch had left a short list of agents to call by the end of the day. He’d stricken up deals for new inventory but couldn’t be bothered to call them himself.

She wished her check reflected the extra work she did.

“Sounds good. I’ll call if we don’t see it by Wednesday. Thanks again.” She hung up and put the phone back on the machine. She used one of the dinky store pens to cross the final name off the list.

 _Finally_.

The store was empty. She was, very literally, the only one there. Thatch hardly ever came in. The only time she saw her ‘boss’ was when he brought checks in or when there was an issue with inventory. Which hardly ever happened. Derry, of course, was out. A ‘emergency’, or so she said. But who was Ruby to object that. What if there really was an emergency? And of course, Jude was late for his shift. Again. She would be thoroughly impressed if he even showed up.

Her phone made a quiet beeping noise. And just like that, her heart began to thud a little harder in her chest. “It’s probably Grant. Or Jude saying he’s not showing.” She mumbled to herself. “No need to get excited.”

And yet, as she looked at her phone, she realized there _was_ a reason to be excited. It was him. Harry.

Her pen pal for the last fourteen years. Easily her best friend. And, quite possibly, the boy she loved. What a weird thing to say! They had never met or spoken on the phone. Their communication came by way of text (as of late) and letter. She had every single letter he’d ever written her. One a week, every week, for fourteen years. So…about seven hundred and thirty letters.

She didn’t really know what romantic love was. She’d never had a serious boyfriend before. Maybe a little piece of her was saving all of her for Harry. If they ever met.

But, it seemed, they were going to. His job (whatever he did, he was not forthcoming on that part of his life) was bringing him to Los Angeles in a week. They had dinner plans. DINNER PLANS.

Her experience, as far as love went, came from books. The raw love of Noah and Allie from Nicholas Sparks’ _The Notebook_ (not her favorite, she preferred the sweetness of _A Walk to Remember_ ), the tried and true bond of Edward Ferrars and Elinor Dashwood (thank you, Ms. Austen for a happy ending).

Currently, she was learning the love between one Anna Karenina and Alexei Vronsky. Anna herself was married with a young son. Vronsky had been tied to Anna’s sister-in-law, Kitty, but the assumed engagement ended once his eyes were lain on Anna for the first time. This love was passionate, it was forbidden. They tried to deny it, but who can really deny Love when it faces you so boldly?

Her favorite love, the one she imagined for herself, was the love of Elizabeth Bennett and Fitzwilliam Darcy. _Pride and Prejudice_ was her most beloved book. She treasured it above all others. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy had a slow and steady love. They overcame their obstacles. They had once found themselves hateful and loathsome of one another. Both were prideful and biased of the other’s circumstance. Misunderstanding tore them further apart. An overwhelming act of selflessness brought them closer together. And in the end, they were happy.

Their story brought about a sense of reality that she’d never connected with in any other books. It resonated more with her.

She wanted that.

Some great love that was consuming, yet she remained herself. Where they were equals on all levels. She could go without the familial and classist mishaps. Struggles, nothing too extreme, would be welcome. For what was love if not an adventure?

 **Still no hint as to this mystery place you’re taking me?** 12:09 p.m.

She smiled, glancing up at the empty store. He was nothing if not persistent. She herself did not like surprises, but she relished in providing them for others.

 **No can do. You’ll just have to trust me.** 12:12 p.m.

Immediately, she received a reply.

 **With my life.** 12:12 p.m.

Her heart quickened. He didn’t mean anything by it, he couldn’t. They were friends, barely if that. You couldn’t trust someone that much if you’d never met them.

_Shot me out of the sky_

_You’re my kryptonite_

_You keep making me weak_

_Yeah, frozen and can’t breathe_

It was after midnight. That much she knew. It was after midnight and her phone was ringing. The only noise in her small apartment was the soft noise of the television. And, annoyingly, her phone.

Once again, she’d fallen asleep on the couch. It was more used than her bed. She did not like her bedroom. It was the biggest room in the apartment. The emptiest room.

Ruby groaned and her hand scoured the cluttered coffee table for her phone. She squinted as she looked at the too-bright screen.

 **Derry**.

“Hello?” Her voice was muggy with sleep.

“Ruby!” Derry’s high voice jolted her up.

Ruby forced herself into sitting up. “It’s,” she pulled her phone away from her ear to look at the time, “Derry, it’s three in the morning.” Derry Simmons was not a phone call person. She preferred the ever-personal art of texting.

Derry also happened to be the beloved daughter of Thatch Simmons. Ruby’s boss.

“Is the store on fire?” Ruby rubbed her face. Bored, Derry said no. “Is your dad okay? Dying? Dead? Arrested?”

“Daddy’s fine.” Derry said in a dreary tone. “But,” she perked up, “guess what?”

Ruby laid back down, the arm of the loveseat curving into the back of her neck. “What?”

The younger girl groaned. “You have to guess, Ruby!”

She closed her eyes. Derry was sixteen, prone to girlish outbursts. And doing things she most definitely should not be. On more than one occasion, Ruby had been called at this time of night. Not wanting her father to know, Derry turned to Ruby as her own personal Uber.

Ruby really did not mind. She preferred to get out and rescue Derry from whatever situation she had fallen into. She felt better being the one dropping Derry off at home or letting her crash in her bed.

“You’re drunk.” Ruby deadpanned.

Derry hesitated and that told her everything she needed to know. “Yes, but that’s not the point!”

At that, Ruby got up from her gloriously comfortable couch. She slid on her house shoes and grabbed her keys from the hook by the door. “Send me your location. I’m coming to get you.”

“No, wait, Ruby-.”

“Be there soon.”

She hung up. By the time she had kids (if she decided she wanted them, that is) she would have plenty of practice from Derry.

She pulled up on the curb, semi-parking her car in front of the lavish townhouse. She could hear the music blaring inside the house. Lights flashed in the windows. On the slanted roof above the door, she saw a set of Greek letters.

She shot Derry a text saying she was outside waiting. Two minutes later, Derry was stumbling out of the house towards her car.

Ruby got out and ran to her, steadying her to keep the younger girl from falling. “God, you smell like you took a bath in a keg.” Ruby muttered, putting Derry in the passenger seat. She got back in the car and started driving. “What were you doing at that party, Derry? You’re not in college.”

Derry grinned at her. The pink lipstick on her mouth was faded, the corners smudged. “Jude invited me. It was so fun!”

Ruby nearly slammed on the breaks. “ _Jude_?” She asked. “As in, Jude from the bookstore?” Derry said that was exactly who she meant. “Derry, he’s like twenty-one. That’s disgusting.”

“He’s so cute, though.” She whined.

Ruby rolled her eyes. “He’s five years older than you and he invited you to a frat party. That’s not right. In fact, it’s very wrong.”

“You sound like my mom.” Derrry grumbled. “Well, you would if I had one.”

She slowed down at the stop light. Derry did not have a mom. She did, biologically, but Ruby was sure that they’d never been formally introduced. Thatch had adopted Derry. It had been a few years after the store opened. The woman had been one of his first employees. She’d gotten pregnant and didn’t want the baby. Thatch, having always wanted children, offered to adopt her unborn baby. The woman accepted, nine months later Derry was born, and the woman disappeared.

“Oh my God!” Derry squealed. “You should totally be my mom. Daddy loves you and you take such good care of me anyway.”

“I’m not going to be your mom, kid.” Ruby sighed. “But I can be like your sister. How’s that?”

That idea sounded much better to Derry. She rattled on about all the cool things they could do like getting pedicures, going to the movies, Ruby could go to parties with her. The list was endless.

_Something’s gotta give now_

_Cause I’m dying just to make you see_

_That I need you here with me now_

_Cause you’ve got that one thing_

This could be it. This could be the night where she met her soulmate. Her Mr. Darcy. There was a very small chance that this guy-Max- was going to be _the one_.

He’d seemed really nice when they’d met. It was one of those sweet moments people told their grandchildren about. A fraction of a moment when their hands touched as they both reached for the same kale in the produce section of Whole Foods. There’d been no spark upon the touch of their hands, no locked gaze in which she saw their entire lives unfold.

Was that even real? Did that stuff even happen? Or had she been reading way too many books? She didn’t know what part of love was made up simply for the hopeless romantic market and what part was actually authentic to a person.

Would she even know what love was if she hadn’t read about it so many times? Or did that fact leave her blind to what love really was?

The faint beeping of her phone distracted her enough to put away any notion of love.

Or it would have, had the text message not been from the only guy she’d ever felt more than a platonic or familial love for.

When Max had asked her on a date two days ago (after he’d surrendered the coveted bag of kale to her), she hadn’t told Harry. Most of her realized this was stupid, the idea of keeping one silly date a secret. It was Harry, her pen pal. They were _friends_.

Then again, the smaller, worrisome part of her knew the real reason. She cared about her pen pal as more than a friend and at the miniscule possibility of him feeling the same way, she kept her date a secret. It was something she’d done for several years. Harry remained in the dark of any and all dates. Especially those men who evolved into short flings. It was better, for her, to keep all of her trysts a secret.

 **Any plans tonight?** 6:52 p.m.

She was supposed to meet Max at 7:30. Did she really want to go? Why waste a few hours on a date that wouldn’t amount to anything more when she could stay home and read a good book? And text.

 **Supposed to have a date. Might bail.** 6:55 p.m.

She waited for what seemed like ever for a response.

 **Go! You deserve a night out! Might inspire some writing?** 6:56 p.m.

Well, she couldn’t argue with that. Even if the actual date was a bust, it could provide material for her book.

 **So? Are you going?** 6:56 p.m.

He wanted her to go. And that, that hurt more than Davey Michaels standing her up for the sophomore dance in high school. Which had been heartbreaking _and_ humiliating.

She took a shaking breath.

 **Headed out the door now.** 6:57 p.m.

 **Call me after?** 6:57 p.m.

And suddenly, she didn’t mind going at all. 

_So get out, get out, get out of my head_

_And fall into my arms instead_

_I don’t, I don’t, don’t know what it is_

_But I need that one thing_

_And you’ve got that one thing_

Max was cute. Cute in that academic I-own-a-tech-startup way. He did not, though, own a tech startup. He just looked the part. Square-rimmed glasses, unevenly cut brown hair that didn’t sit just right. He was wearing dark khakis, a white button down and a green sweater over that.

He was, she learned, a graduate of Stanford where he’d gotten both his Bachelor’s and Master’s in Literature.

“What do you want to do with that?” She asked. “Career-wise, I mean. Did that sound rude?”

He laughed, shaking his head. He had a nice laugh.

What was Harry’s laugh like?

They were in a nice restaurant. Not nice as in upscale and expensive. Nice as in small and intimate. It was a little Greek place that she’d had no idea existed before that night.

“I actually just got a job with a publishing house.” 

Her head snapped up from her salad. Publishing?

 _No, no, no_ , she told herself, _don’t go there._

The last thing she needed was for this guy to think she was fishing.

“Really?” She asked tightly. “What are you-?”

Her phone interrupted. Surely it wasn’t….?

No, it was not. Derry was calling. At eight. On a Saturday. Ruby sent the call to voicemail.

“Sorry.” She apologized. “So, what will you be doing?”

Max shrugged off her apology. “I think just read-throughs for now. Browsing manuscripts and sending them through to editors.”

The Man himself had put Max Cauffield in her path. And she was going to step around him like a dumbass.

“I hope you like-.”

Her phone was ringing. Again. And surprise, surprise, it was Derry. Again, she sent the call to voicemail.

“Do you need to take that?” Max asked, gesturing to her phone. “It might be important.”

She said no. “It’s my boss’ daughter. I’m pretty sure she wants me to hang out with her. Or she’s calling to tell me she won’t be at work Monday. Either way, it can wait.”

Max smiled. She knew better than to be on her phone on a first date. Or any date that came before an established relationship.

And yet, every time her phone rang, she wanted it to be someone else.

“How old is she?”

“Sixteen. Going on twenty-two.” Not a significant age gap, but Derry really believed she was a legal adult.

Max chuckled. “My sister is thirteen. And she thinks she’s grown. She and my mom fight all the time.” She didn’t doubt it. Remembering Derry at thirteen was like remembering a childhood nightmare. “Do you have siblings?”

“Older brother. He’s twenty-seven.” Max asked what he did. “Grant owns his own business. It’s like some kind of car repair servicing or something. They sell kits and they have stores and stuff. I don’t know, really.”

Max’s eyes, a soft brown color, twinkled. “Kind of like Safe-It-Yourself?”

Ruby grimaced. Her cheeks felt warm. “Not like it, no. His company _is_ Safe-It-Yourself.”

It was a supremely successful business. Grant was only three years older than her but had already done more than she ever would.

“Your brother owns Safe-It-Yourself?” She nodded. “Grant Manning?” Another nod. “He’s on the Forbes list.”

She was very well aware.

Another text from Derry came through.

 **Call me back!!!! NEED YOU ASAP AT STORE!!!!** 8:17 p.m.

“Shit.” Ruby put her phone up. Max asked what was the matter. “I have to go. I’m so sorry, really.” She grabbed her purse and trifled through it. “Here.” She put a twenty down on the table. “I had a really good time. I’ll-I’ll call you.”

The store was closed. The little kitschy neon sign on the door was off. The lights were dimmed down. Ruby unlocked the door and stepped inside. The store had always been a little too cold for her, but tonight it was a welcoming comfort from the July heat. Even at night, the heat in Los Angeles was a little too much for her.

“Derry?” She called out. “What’s going on?”

“Hurry! I’m in storage!”

Ruby dropped her purse on the counter and rushed to the storage room. It was a small room connected to the back/break room. There was another door that led back out to the storefront. Derry was standing on the step ladder, a broom in her hand.

“What are you-?”

Derry jerked the broom in the direction of several poorly stacked boxes. Lo and behold, there was a freaking opossum standing its ground. Teeth bared, hissing and all.

“Holy shit!” Ruby clambered up onto another of the ladders. “How did it get in?”

Derry made a frustrated noise. “I opened the door in the backroom to let out some of this cold air. It’s always so fuck-,” her word ended at the sharp, matronly look she received from Ruby, “freaking cold in here. I was unloading the boxes and when I turned around-.”

The creature hissed, inching forward. Derry squealed.

Ruby held her hand out and asked for the broom. Derry tossed it and she caught it. “Okay. I’ll get it out. Stay here.”

“Shouldn’t we call animal control or something?”

“No!” Ruby gasped. “They’ll kill it, probably.” She jumped down from the ladder. The animal made something like a growling noise. “Easy there. I’m not gonna hurt you.” She said softly. “Let’s just…” she gently shoved the broom towards it, and it latched on, “Derry, box!”

Derry scrambled and produced an empty cardboard box. Ruby lifted the broom over the box and the opossum fell in.

“Hurry, hurry.”

Together, they maneuvered the box out of the storage room and to the back door. They placed it on the ground. Derry huddled behind her as she kicked the box over and slammed the door.

“Oh, my God. That was terrifying!” Derry sat down on top of the break table. “I thought it was going to eat us.”

Ruby raised an eyebrow. “And now you know why we don’t leave the doors open.”

Derry nodded sagely. “I called you like a billion times. Where you asleep or something?”

She said no, she had not been asleep. And Derry had only called twice. “I was on a date.”

“A date?” She screamed. “Oh em gee! Tell me everything! Is he cute? Where’d you go? Is he rich?”

Ruby sat down next to her. “Yes. Greek restaurant. I don’t know.” Not that it was important. “Did you ever remember what you wanted to tell me the other night? Before you vomited all in my shower.”

Sheepishly, Derry smiled. She apologized for the incident again (marking thirty-seven verbal apologies). And then, her entire face lit up. “Yes! How could I have forgotten?” She jumped off the table and went for her purse. It was sitting on the counter. A large black leather tote that probably costed one month of Ruby’s rent. She rummaged through the bag before producing two rectangular pieces of paper. “Guess who’s coming to L.A. in a couple weeks?”

“The Wiggles.” Ruby said duly.

Derry frowned. “No, you old woman. HARRY FREAKIN’ STYLES!” The level of her voice was too much. It was very possible that Ruby’s ears were bleeding. 

Ruby stared back at her blankly. “Okay…?”

“Don’t you know who he is?”

“No, I’ve been living under a rock for ten years.” Derry narrowed her eyes. “Yes. I know who he is. One Direction. Solo singer now. I’m guessing you’re a super fan.”

The younger girl shrugged. “I wouldn’t go that far. I don’t have his face tattooed on my ass….yet. But he’s so beautiful and his voice…Ugh.” She leaned against the counter. “Anyway, I got two tickets. You’ll go with me, right?”

Derry had, from a young age, mastered the puppy dog pout. Her big brown eyes would widen and begin to tear up. Semi-glossed lips turned down in a textbook pout. She was a very difficult person to say no to.

“Of course.” Ruby smiled. “There’s no way I’d let you go alone.”

Derry launched from the counter and catapulted onto Ruby. Her thin arms wrapped around her, squeezing hard. “You’re the best! This is gonna be so fun!”

_Now I’m climbing the walls_

_But you don’t notice at all_

_That I’m going out of my mind_

_All day and all night_

Her hand was shaking. Why was she nervous? There was no reason to be nervous. She’d spent the past fourteen years of her life talking to Harry.

But through letter. And text. Never over the phone. That was a terrifying thought, to finally know the sound of his voice after fourteen years.

“Buck up. It’s just him.” She muttered. And hit **call**.

The phone rang several times, to the extent she almost hung up. And then, “Hello?” English. Not just the language. The accent. Which she had known, but it felt different hearing it.

“Hi. Uh, it’s me.” God, that was lame. “Ruby, I mean. It’s Ruby.”

He laughed, a quiet chuckle under his breath. The sound made her inhale sharply. “Yeah, I know. Caller ID.”

Just like that, she felt stupid. Worse than the failed Trig test junior year of high school. Way worse.

“How was the date?” He broke the silence. “Good? Bad? Do I need to beat the bloody hell out of him?”

She smiled, leaning against the bathroom sink. “Unless you want to come hunt down an opossum, I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“An opossum?” He asked incredulously. “What kind of date were you on?”

She put him on speaker and laid her phone on the counter. As she took her makeup off, she recounted the opossum incident. Looking back, the whole thing was hilarious to think about. They were both in fits of laughter by the time she was done with the story.

“Are you upset about the date?” He asked suddenly. “That you didn’t get to finish it?”

She shrugged, even though he couldn’t see her indifference. She left the bathroom, going to take refuge on her couch. The television was on, sound barely loud enough to hear. “Not really. Max was nice but it all felt kind of forced.” She answered honestly. “But it was really weird. You said to go because of the book and turns out he works for a publishing house.”

“Really?” She felt like he was smiling. Just in the way he said the word. “Did you tell him about your book?” In a quiet voice, she said no. “Why not?”

In all reality, there was no good answer, no real excuse. She could have told Max and maybe finished it and been a published author.

“Ruby?”

She sighed, flipping to lay down on the couch. “Honestly? You’re the only person who knows about it.” He asked what she meant. “My book. I’ve never told anyone else. Not my mom. Not Grant. No one knows.”

“Why? Why keep it a secret?”

Another solid question where the answer was so simple, but she had muddied it beyond belief. She dreamt of being a published author but couldn’t bear to tell anyone about the book. “It can’t be bad if no one knows. And I can’t be rejected if it never gets sent.”

He sighed. “Now that’s a load of poppycock.”

“ _What_?” 

He was laughing at her shock. What sort of word was that? Who the hell said ‘poppycock’ in the 21st century?

“Bull. It’s shite and you know it. Writing is what you love. Don’t let fear stop you from doing what you love.”

She rested her head on the arm of the couch. “Coming from experience or are you just incredibly wise?”

“Both. Now, how was Derry post-opossum?”

Derry was…complicated. As always. She was an unstoppable force in the form of a teenage girl. “She handled it way better than I thought. And then she sprang some concert tickets on me. Begged me to go.” The ticket was tucked away safe in her lockbox. It wouldn’t be used for a couple weeks and she didn’t want to lose it.

“Concert, eh? Who’s the lucky artist that gets your undivided attention?”

Ruby picked at the frayed edge of the throw pillow. “Harry Styles.” She said nonchalantly. “Derry’s kind of obsessed with him.”

His breath hitched. “And…And you? How do you feel about him?”

True to the statement, Ruby Manning did not have a taste in music. She simply _listened_. She found songs she liked, artists she liked, but she could not be pinned to one type. Much like books. Her taste was universal.

And really, she liked the music of Harry Styles. Some of it was upbeat and exciting, and some of it fell to a slow pace. Those were her favorites. His voice was saccharine, but not too high that it hurt her ears. She could be conned a fan in the most casual of ways.

“I partake in a song every now and then.” She admitted. “Mostly, though, I listen in the bath. His voice is very relaxing.”

“In-In- you said the bath?”

She giggled softly. “Yeah. Baths are required every now and then to unwind. A little rose water, some candles. A book for company. And music. Music is always necessary and his happens to do the trick.”

“At least you won’t be tortured during the concert. It would suck if you hated his music.”

_Something’s gotta give now_

_Cause I’m dying just to know your name_

_And I need you here with me now_

_Cause you’ve got that one thing_

Her neck ached. It was no painless task, balancing her phone between her ear and shoulder while trying to throw together some sort of acceptable meal.

“No, Grant, I do not need money.” She said for the seventh time. “I’d tell you if I did.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

Grant was older than her for three years. He was, for all intents and purposes, her best friend. Friends were had been a scarcity for Ruby throughout her life. It was not for her mother’s lack of trying. Or her father’s gentle encouragement.

Not to say she didn’t have friends. Because she did. In fact, she sometimes felt she had too many.

Mandy was, as they had coined, the wild one. In college, she’d partied more than studied, yet somehow managed to graduate. Now she was responsible for small children but never turned down a night out (most were actually her idea). Even if it was on a school night.

There was Blythe. Like something straight out of a Gossip Girl episode. Beautiful, rich, not the nicest person to have ever existed. Derry, naturally, idolized everything about Blythe’s life. Blythe was, on the outside, mean and spoiled. She was also spoiled on the inside, but her Regina George- Blair Waldorf exterior also housed a sensitive and low-morale girl.

Alyse was Ruby’s saving grace. Calm, collected, level-headed. Whereas Mandy was an emotional bomb waiting to explode and Blythe never in a decent mood, Alyse never failed to keep her cool. She was their mom. Responsible for actually planning any and all girls’ events. Birthdays, celebratory dinners, nights in. Alyse managed them all.

“I would.” Ruby countered. “Trust me, I have money to spare. I’ve been working a lot of extra shifts at the store.”

The smell of burnt chicken hit her nose.

“Oh, damn it!”

“What? What happened?”

She groaned and yanked open the oven. A puff of smoke blew out at her. She grabbed a dish towel and pulled the baking sheet from the oven. She kicked the door shut and put the sheet on the stove. The top of the chicken was a charred black. “My chicken burnt.”

Grant chuckled. “You should not be in a kitchen. You’re lethal to any and all foods.”

“Shut up.” She muttered. “And if I remember correctly, you ate nothing but microwave ramen and Chef Boyardee in college. All four years.”

“Because I lived at home! You can’t cook and Mom was never home.”

Someone knocked on the door. “Hold on, I think Alyse is here.”

She put her phone on the counter, hearing Grant chastise her for trying to cook for another person. She jogged from the small kitchen to the door, only a few feet away.

Throwing open the door, she saw Alyse. Her friend had a brown bag of food in her hand. “Reinforcements.” She jiggled the bag.

Ruby rolled her eyes playfully. Was in a universally accepted notion that she couldn’t cook? “Come on, I’m just on the phone with Grant. I’ll throw the chicken out, I guess.”

“In the main trash chute though.” Alyse said. “I could smell it coming up.” Ruby went back into the kitchen as Alyse got comfortable at the small dining table. “Tell Grant I said hi and I still think he’s hot as ever.”

“Ew. I’m not saying that to him.” She picked tthe phone back up. “Apparently, everyone thinks I can’t cook. Alyse brought food.”

“I am happy to know you won’t be starving or attempting to eat that chicken.” In the background, she heard someone yell his name. “Gotta go. Talia’s home.”

“See ya. Tell the mysterious fiancée I said hi.”

“Will do.”

She hung up and tossed her phone on the counter. Alyse had already set the tables with the Styrofoam containers. The smell of fried rice began to overpower the burnt chicken scent.

“I’ll run this…disaster out to the trash chute.” Ruby gestured to the baking sheet. Alyse handed her the take-out bag. Ruby dumped the charred chicken into the bag, gagging at the odor. “Be right back.”

She left the door cracked to the apartment. The chute was down on the opposite end of the hall. In 5D, she heard the married couple (the Horns) arguing. Per usual. It wasn’t her place at all to judge their relationship, she didn’t even know them, but they did not have a healthy relationship at all. He didn’t trust her, and she didn’t trust him. The kid, the poor kid, was only a toddler. One or two years old.

Mr. Costa lived in 7D, right at the end of the hall. Widowed, three kids. Marianna was fourteen, Leo nine, and Elia five. Mr. Costa reminded her a lot of her own dad. Maybe that was why she liked him so much.

He worked a lot of hours, probably too many. But the apartments weren’t the cheapest in the city and kids were expensive. On nights he worked extra shifts, Ruby tried to go over and check on the kids. He usually texted her on those nights.

Tonight, though, he was home.

She reached the dead end of the hall and opened the trash chute. She dropped the paper bag in and shut the door.

“Jackass!”

The door to 5D flew open. Dana Horn stormed out of the apartment.

Ruby came face to face with the woman. They were around the same age. Dana was sans child.

“What are you looking at?” Dana snapped.

Ruby narrowed her eyes. “You just- Nevermind.” She shook her head and walked past the woman. She went back into her own apartment and shut the door. “Freakin’ nutcase.” She muttered.

Alyse was sitting at the table, staring at her phone. No, at _Ruby’s_ phone. “Who’s H?” Alyse looked up.

“W-What?”

Alyse held up her phone. A text notification was illuminated on the screen. “Your phone was going off. I thought it was Grant but…”

Ruby crossed to the table and grabbed her phone. “Just a friend.” She muttered, sitting down. She had a missed call and a text from Harry. Her hands shook as she opened the food container. 

“Doesn’t sound like just a friend.” Alyse pointed out.

No one, absolutely no one, knew about Harry. None of her friends were aware of her near lifelong pen pal. Her brother hadn’t been invested enough in her real personal life to remember. Her mother didn’t care enough.

It had been a carefully cultured secret between Ruby and her dad. 

“Come on, Ruby.” Alyse prompted. “Who is this mystery person?”

She groaned. “Okay, if I tell you, you can’t tell _anyone_. I mean it. Especially not Mandy and Blythe.”

Alyse mimicked zipping her lips and crossed her hand over her heart. Ruby, with shaking hands and a worry-fringed voice, explained the entire situation to her friend. The resort her father had taken up as a last-ditch effort to socializer her. The last fourteen years of sending letters and the sudden desire to meet her pen pal. Exchanging phone numbers and his eventual arrival to Los Angeles.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever told.” Ruby admitted quietly.

Alyse’s eyes were wide, so dark a brown they often looked black. “You gave a complete stranger your phone number?”

“He’s not a stranger.” Ruby countered.

“You’ve never met him.”

“I’ve known him for fourteen years.”

Alyse laughed hollowly. “You don’t know who he is, Ruby. Anything, everything that he’s ever told you could be a lie. He could be some creep who has your phone number.”

Sometimes, on occasion, Alyse’s tendency to mother hen became too much. Very quickly could she turn into a ‘smother’ hen.

“He isn’t some creep.” Ruby said sharply. “Trust me. I-I know, I can feel it. It doesn’t feel wrong or creepy. It feels right.”

Alyse sat back, arms crossed over her chest. The concern on her face had faded into anger, which had now molded itself into sincerity. “You like him.”

Ruby shrugged, hugging herself. It wasn’t easy to admit aloud that she had feelings for someone she’d never met. “I guess.” She mumbled. “It’s not hard to when he knows almost everything about me. I mean, I tell him stuff that _no one_ knows.”

“Not even me?”

Ruby said no. Alyse asked why that was. “I didn’t really see a harm in telling him when I didn’t think we’d ever meet.”

Alyse nodded, clearly agreeing. “But now you’re going to meet up. When he comes in.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you nervous?”

“As hell.” She laughed nervously. “What if he is a creep? Or he doesn’t like me? God, so many things could go wrong.”

Alyse shrugged her shoulders. “Or,” she said slowly, “so many things could go right.” Ruby raised her eyebrows. So said the same person, who, only a few minutes before had been hard-core judging her for giving a ‘stranger’ her phone number. “Seriously.” Alyse deadpanned. “All concern aside from earlier. You like this guy, whoever he is.” Ruby supplied his name. “Harry, right. You’ve been writing this dude for almost fifteen years and now you’re getting to meet him. Add in your feelings and this is like one of your books.”

She wouldn’t have gone that far. She better than anyone knew just how unrealistic her books were. “And if he doesn’t like me?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Alyse promised. “Speaking of crossing bridges, Mandy is demanding a night out this weekend. She just got ghosted by that crossing guard at her school.”

Ruby laughed under her breath. “I’ll bring the tissues.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. The hibachi had smelled good at first (definitely better than the chicken), but her appetite had disappeared. Her nerves were too far gone to eat. All she could think was: _What if he doesn’t like me in person?_

Not that she wasn’t the same in letter, because she was, but he probably had some idolized version of her in his head. Some standard she couldn’t hope to meet.

“You said he knows _almost_ everything.” Alyse said.

Ruby looked up from her food. “Huh?”

“Earlier, you said that Harry knows almost everything about your life.” She pointed out. “So, what haven’t you told him?”

She swallowed and shut the food container. Alyse asked again. Ruby exhaled. “He doesn’t know about my dad.”

_So get out, get out, get out of my head_

_And fall into my arms instead_

_I don’t, I don’t, don’t know what it is_

_But I need that one thing_

_And you’ve got that one thing_

Alyse had gone. Plans had been made for the following Friday to help Mandy move on from her crossing guard heartbreak. Derry owed her a million for every two a.m. pick-up and therefore couldn’t refuse to take her shift. In true Derry fashion, the teenager had somehow manipulated Ruby into a movie night on Saturday.

And still, she hadn’t opened Harry’s text from before dinner. Or returned his call. It was nearly eleven. Which meant, it was almost eight a.m. where he was.

 **Hey, sorry I missed your call. Alyse came over for dinner. She just left a little while ago. Everything okay?** 11 p.m.

Almost immediately, her phone rang. **H.**

“Hello?” She answered.

He gave an audible sigh. “You’re alive.”

She laughed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Harry hesitated. She got comfortable on the couch, pulling the blanket up around her shoulders. “I-I don’t know.” He admitted. “I just got worried about you.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Cute. Like I said, I’m really sorry. Alyse just left about an hour ago and I-.”

“You don’t need to explain, Ruby. It’s all right. Really.”

She didn’t want him to think she was ignoring him. Or forgetting about him.

“What’d you guys eat? For dinner.” He broke her thoughts. “Ramen place?”

She said no, hoping he really wasn’t upset with her. “I’m saving the ramen place just for you.” She promised him. “I tried making a chicken, but uh…that didn’t work out. Alyse brought over some takeout hibachi.”

“Are you a bad cook, then?”

“No!” She jolted up. “I most certainly am not a bad cook.” She would not have him think she couldn’t cook. Which she couldn’t, but that wasn’t the point.

Harry chuckled. “All right then. You’ll cook for me?”

She’d _what?_ That had backfired exponentially. She couldn’t cook for him! She was a horrible cook. And she couldn’t exactly tell him the truth.

“Ruby?”

“Are you trying to back out of the ramen place?” She asked. “Did you lie and say you liked ramen?”

“No, I did not lie. I want to go to the ramen place with you.”

“Then why-?”

“Did you think we’d only see each other once while I was in L.A.?”

Now _that_ was something she hadn’t really thought of. She’d been so focused in on the one time they’d see each other that she hadn’t even entertained the idea of them getting together any after that.

“I mean, I guess.” She said quietly. “I hadn’t given it much thought, to be honest.”

“Now why would you think I’d only want to see you once?”

He couldn’t say things like that. In fact, the whole conversation needed to be placed in an Off-Limits box. It was much too romantic, too un-friend like. He’d give her ideas that would run rampant in her head.

“Like I said,” her voice was a little dry, “I hadn’t thought much about it.”

“So, it’s settled. You’ll cook for me, while I’m in?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Great! What’re your plans for the rest of the week?”

She was screwed. Absolutely screwed.

_So get out, get out, get out of my mind_

_And come on, come into my life_

_I don’t, I don’t, don’t know what it is_

_But I need that one thing_

_And you’ve got that one thing_

The day was upon her. Friday. She was absolutely dreading the evening upon her. She would have much rather stayed in and finished _Anna Karenina_ than go party in some club filled to the brim with hot and sweaty people.

“God, Manning, how long do you take to get ready?”

She closed her eyes. Blythe, fucking hell. If they weren’t on Blythe’s time, why the hell were they alive?

“Almost done.” She called out.

From her living room, Mandy laughed. Halfway to drunk already. Ruby looked at herself in the mirror.

 _You’re doing this for her_ , she told herself, _you’re being a good friend_.

And that, that was enough.

The club was packed. As she had rightfully expected on a Friday night. It was humid out, her skin already prickling with sweat by the time they got inside. It was, she decided, going to be a long night.

“Shots!” Mandy announced. “Blythe is buying!”

This was news to Blythe. She had more money than the rest of them combined. And she’d known Mandy the longest. They’d been paired as roommates freshmen year at UCLA.

“Fine. Only because you’re eternally depressed or whatever.” Blythe muttered.

Blythe pushed through the crowd towards the bar. Alyse and Ruby shared an amused look. Mandy seemed pleased with herself. “Let’s dance! Come on!” She reached out for both of them.

Alyse backed up. “Ohh, no. I do not dance. I’m gonna go get a drink. Ruby’s the dancer.”

Ruby raised her eyebrows. She was the one who had busted her ass at the Phi Lambda Eta house after climbing onto the DJ booth. Then again, the vodka had been in more control than her brain.

Mandy latched onto her and dragged her out in the middle of the floor. She lost sight of Alyse in the madness. Ruby, for the life of her, could not understand how Mandy couldn’t keep a boyfriend. She was stunning and hilarious, even when she didn’t mean to be. Sweet-natured, maybe a little too naïve. Mandy went through boyfriends (or maybe they went through her) like she went through books.

Blythe was stable, much more so than Mandy. She’d been dating the same guy since sophomore year of college. Chip Wolcott. A tried and true Phi Lambda Eta, it was in his blood. They were going to get married, it was just a matter of when Chip popped the question.

Alyse, she got by. Boyfriends here and there. Boys liked her. And on occasion, she liked them back. Too bad for them, Alyse Bancroft was hopelessly devoted to Grant Manning. Not that she would ever actually admit that.

And Ruby, she pitied herself. She was in love with her freaking pen pal.

Guys flocked to Mandy, in awe of the effortless way she moved along with the music.

“You want to dance?” In her protective, furtive watching of Mandy, she hadn’t realized the guy saddle up to her own side.

He was…cute. Dark hair in his face, a pierced ear, some tattoos. Not necessarily her type. Granted, she didn’t know what her type even _was_. Whoever Harry was, that was her type.

“No, I’m okay, thanks.” She smiled, turning her gaze back to Mandy. Thankfully, she’d found a guy to satiate her needs.

“I’m not a bad dancer.”

She frowned but didn’t look away from her friend. “I’m really not in the mood.”

“Then why are you here?”

She locked her jaw. Just as she was about to lose her cool, Alyse and Blythe appeared, both carrying a tray of drinks. Blythe’s tray was laden with clear shot glasses, each filled to the brim with clear liquid. Vodka or tequila. Nothing cheap either. Alyse’s had four drinks on it. Ruby knew exactly what each was. They never strayed too far from their usual orders.

A gin and tonic for Alyse. Vodka and cranberry juice for Blythe. Vodka water (more vodka than water) for Mandy. For Ruby, a tequila sunrise. Knowing Alyse ordered them, she’d be sure to thank her for the hangover tomorrow.

“We come bearing gifts, poor little friends.” Blythe shot a wary look at the unnamed man next to Ruby. “Who’s this?” She raised an eyebrow.

Without a word, the guy walked away.

“Freaky.” Blythe’s eyes narrowed. “Mandy, get your sad ass over here and consume this alcohol you forced me to buy!”

Mandy tore herself from her dance partner, promising to return at a later time. Blythe handed her two shots. “What is it?” She yelled over the music.

“Does it matter?”

At that, Mandy threw back both shots. Ruby’s nose crinkled. For someone who drank a lot, Mandy’s tolerance was abnormally low. A few more shots and she’d be blacked.

“Here, take two more.” Blythe handed her two more shot glasses. Happily, Mandy took them and downed them quickly. With a smile, Blythe took the glasses and ushered Mandy back to her dancing. Alyse didn’t let her go without first handing her the vodka water. Mandy went on with a crooked grin. Both Alyse and Blythe sat their trays down on the small, circular table.

“Are you trying to give her alcohol poisoning?” Ruby asked her. “It isn’t even eleven yet.”

“The quicker she blacks out and makes out with e-boy over there,” she motioned to the guy Mandy was plastered all over, “the quicker we can all go home.” Blythe, after college, had outgrown clubbing and partying. She suffered for the sake of friendship, but much preferred bottomless mimosas at brunches. Or anytime.

“Here.” Alyse handed Ruby her drink. “Bottoms up, baby girl.”

Ruby took a long drink. “You got tequila shots, didn’t you?” She eyed Blythe. “You know how Mandy gets when she drinks tequila.”

Blythe smirked and took a sip of her vodka cran. “Not just any tequila. Casa Noble.” Organic and expensive. “Look, Chip and I are meeting his parents for brunch tomorrow. I need a good night’s rest. If I show up tomorrow looking or acting any kind of hungover, Moira is going to rip me a new one.”

Oh, _Moira_. Mrs. Wolcott. Chip’s overprotective and snot-nosed mother. Who just so happened to dislike Blythe to the point of loathing. Chip loved Blythe but he almost loved his mother more. The two women were locked in a constant battle for him. Blythe wanted to marry Chip and his mother wanted him to leave her high and dry.

“Just tell her where she can shove her bottle of crystal.” Alyse laughed. “Should set her straight.”

Blythe’s eyes, usually an icy blue but now softened, widened in surprise. Alyse hardly ever spoke out of pocket in that way. “Then she’d never let Chip marry me.” Blythe slumped down on the table stool. “Guys, she stresses me out so much.” She whined. “I _need_ her to like me.”

Alyse rubbed her back, a sympathetic look on her face. “You can’t make her like you, B.” She said softly.

“Bitches will always be bitches.” Ruby added. “Chip is what, like twenty-six?” Twenty-seven, Blythe supplied. “Twenty-seven!” She laughed. “He can’t let his mom dictate his life forever. He’s a grown-ass man. Whether his mom likes you or not, he’ll marry you if he wants.”

Perhaps it wasn’t exactly what Blythe wanted to hear. But it was enough to get her to finish her drink. “God, she is such a fucking bitch!” She slammed the empty glass on the table.

“Amen to that.” Alyse agreed, withdrawing her hand. “Dance it out?”

“Hell yes!”

With joined hands, the three of them journeyed out to the dance floor. The song changed, something upbeat and fun. Mandy was dancing near them, close enough if she wound up in trouble, all they had to do was reach out and draw her in.

“Thanks for coming out with me tonight!” She yelled over the music.

And suddenly, Ruby was in the mood to dance.

_You’ve got that one thing_

Her phone. Her motherfucking phone was ringing. God, how long had it been ringing? Her ears burned. Were they bleeding? Her head felt like someone had slammed into it with a sledgehammer.

And dear God, her stomach…

She raised up from the couch. “Holy hell.” She grumbled.

Her bedroom door was open. There were three figures in her bed, arms slung over one another. Peacefully asleep. Oblivious to the treacherous sound of her fucking phone.

Laying back down, she reached out and grabbed it.

**H.**

What time was it? Her phone said eight a.m., which meant it was…four p.m. in London.

“Hey.” She rasped, closing her eyes.

It was way too early to be awake. Especially when she felt as if she’d been run over by an eighteen-wheeler.

“And she lives.” His laugh, however beautiful, was too loud for her current state.

She winced. “Could you not be so loud?” She asked nicely. “I think I died and just now came back.”

“Sorry, love.” _Love_. She wished he wouldn’t say it. “I take it you aren’t feeling too well?”

She shook her head. “Girls night got the best of me. Alyse was funneling tequila sunrises into me until the club closed.”

Harry snorted at her comment. He wouldn’t be laughing if he felt the way she did. “Tequila not your friend?”

“Not at the moment.”

He chuckled. “You need food, my girl. Something greasy. Girls still there?”

“All in my bed, sleeping blissfully while I’m awake.”

“Mad at me?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“’Cause I woke you up.”

If it had been anyone else, she would have been murderous at the interruption of her drunken sleep. But it wasn’t just anyone. It was Harry.

“Not mad. Not even a little.”

“Thank the heavens. Couldn’t stand you being upset with me.” Her heart fluttered. His accent made everything sound so much more…romantic. “You said the girls are in your bed? Where’re you?” She said she slept on the couch. “Nice of you.”

She didn’t bother telling him she couldn’t stand sleeping in her own bed. She’d slept on her couch ever since moving into the apartment.

She hummed in response. “Busy day?” She asked.

“The usual.” And as usual, he didn’t go into detail. For whatever weird reason, he didn’t want her to know what he did.

She had theories. He probably had a good job, something where he made a lot of money. It was in marketing, that much she knew. He’d let that much slip. Did he think that she’d only want to be around him if she knew he had money?

“Any plans?”

“Dinner later. You?”

She shrugged. “Nothing today. I’ll probably stop by the shop later, check on Derry. Blythe has brunch with her future monster-in-laws later, so we’ll probably all get breakfast and then go to her place to pick out the perfect outfit.”

“Sounds…fun.”

“Loads.” She murmured. “You’ll be in town next week?”

“For sure.”

“Where’re you staying?” She hoped he knew she was _not_ offering her apartment.

He hesitated. “Uh, some place called the Sunset Marquis. You know it?”

_Holy. Fucking. Hell._

He had money. A lot of it. Enough to be staying at one of the nicest hotels in Los Angeles. It was nearly famous, a place many musicians had taken up in while in town.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s a good place to stay.” She swallowed.

How the hell had she ended up with a mega rich pen pal?

_Get out, get out, get out of my head_

_And fall into my arms instead_

“Heard you on the phone this morning.” Alyse was prodding. Something she was good at.

They were in Blythe’s bedroom. She had disappeared into her closet, which was about the size of Ruby’s bedroom.

Blythe owned a nice (and by nice, Ruby meant expensive) house in Beverly Hills. Five bedrooms, six and a half baths. Three stories. It was the house she planned on growing old in. With Chip.

If his mother allowed, that was.

Until then, Mandy was taking up residence in one of the guest rooms. Neither of them liked living alone and they worked well together.

“God, what the hell am I gonna wear?” She screeched.

Mandy jumped, nearly dropping her egg McMuffin. “Wear that russet colored jumpsuit you got from Paris in March.” She took a bite of the breakfast sandwich. “And pair it with those cute white Choo’s your dad bought you last Christmas. And a gold belt. Probably the Gucci one.”

Blythe poked her head from the closet. Ruby glanced at Mandy, a frown on her face.

“How do you _remember_ that?” Blythe muttered, heading back into the closet. “I forgot I even had it.”

Mandy shrugged and took a drink of her iced coffee. “I drink and I know things.” Of course, a Game of Thrones quote.

Alyse rolled her eyes. She turned her attention back to Ruby. “So, this morning?” She asked quietly. “Was it who I think it was?”

Ruby nodded discreetly.

“He still coming in?”

“Yup.” Her lips popped. “He wants me to cook him dinner.”

Alyse’s eyes widened. “Oh, dear God. You’re screwed.”

Ruby laid back on the bed, arms spread out. What if…No, that wouldn’t work. And she didn’t want to lie to him. That wouldn’t be right.

“Okay, what do you think?”

Blythe stepped out of the closet. She was wearing the outfit Mandy had suggested. Sans Gucci belt. “Moira hates Gucci.” She told Mandy. “I wore the double G belt in front of her once and I’ve regretted it every day since.”

“Try the Calvin one, then. It’s thin, it should work.” Blythe disappeared back into the closet. She came out a moment later with the correct belt sashed around her waist. “Perfect. Everything a mother-in-law could want for her son.”

Blythe snorted. “As if. I could be the fucking Queen of England and still wouldn’t be good enough for Moira’s precious baby boy.”

Alyse reminded her of their conversation the previous night. Blythe grabbed her purse from the armoire where she stored her favorite handbags. She’d gone light on the makeup, a tinted moisturizer, mascara, and highlight. Red hair pulled back in a smoothed down ponytail. She enthused an air of elegance and good breeding. Good Upper East Side breeding. Not good enough for Moira Wolcott it seemed.

Which Ruby thought was extremely stupid. Blythe was the best person for Chip. She was the reason he hadn’t dropped out of college, the reason he’d won president for his fraternity (two years in a row). Blythe was well-educated, in all aspects. She’d grown up with a private tutor and an elite Catholic private school. She spoke French and Spanish fluently. Organized, neat, orderly. And she loved Chip with her whole heart.

“Well?” She blinked at them. She was expectant for a response.

Mandy finished off her sandwich in silence.

“You look perfect.” Ruby assured.

Blythe smiled, not a gesture she did very often. She had a nice smile, even if it looked a little pained. “Thanks, Ruby.” She glanced over at the clock on the wall. “Shit, I have to go. If I’m late, she’ll never let me live it down.”

She blew kisses to each of them and rushed out of the room.

Ruby rose up on her elbows. “Well, ladies, time for me to go.” She announced to them.

Mandy groaned. “Ah, come on. Stay and hang out with us. We can watch cheesy romance movies and binge on ice cream and popcorn all day.”

“I wish.” She got up from the bed. She straightened out her flannel. “Derry’s alone at the store today. Thatch is out of town. I don’t want her alone if Jude decides to show up.”

Alyse’s nose crinkled in disgust. “Is he still trying to hit on her?”

She nodded. “Once I _see_ him do it, his ass is fired. And beaten.”

Both of the other girls snorted. They had no doubt Ruby would kick that college boy’s ass for trying to take advantage of a high school girl.

“Get outta here, Wonder Woman.” Mandy tossed her crumpled McMuffin wrapper at her. “Go save the best bookstore in L.A. and the poor high school girl who has to work there.”

Ruby picked up the wrapped and threw it in the trashcan. She grabbed her bag from the floor and went on her way.

_So get out, get out, get out of my head_

_And fall into my arms instead_

_I don’t, I don’t, don’t know what it is_

_But I need that one thing_

_And you’ve got that one thing_

The day passed in a relatively uneventful manner. Derry was, surprisingly, at the store when Ruby arrived. Apparently, she’d been there since eight that morning. Derry had been opening the store while she’d been on the phone with Harry, thinking of dollar signs and vomiting.

Fantastic.

Ruby sat behind the counter, filtering through the new stock as Derry put it on the shelves. She had to admit, Derry was better at doing stock than her. She knew how to make things look good. Ruby just wanted as many books on a shelf as possible. Derry liked to make it pretty.

They closed for lunch at one-thirty, went across the street for Subway, and enjoyed an hour of an even quieter bookstore.

Jupiter House wasn’t a popular place to shop for books. Threatened by big chains like Books-A-Million and Barnes and Noble, it was a place that had a few dozen loyal patrons. It saw a few transients every so often, tourists looking for a lesser-known part of the city or some of the homeless who knew about the free coffee. Which was the whole reason they had free coffee.

Thatch had, at first, used it as a rouse. He wanted to draw them in and then offer them a job or some kind of help. Most of them didn’t accept, they just wanted something to drink.

They kept the store open until six. While Derry flipped through magazines and painted her nails (several times), Ruby wrote.

It was the first time she’d been struck with inspiration in a while. She’d scrapped the first draft, suddenly deciding she didn’t like it at all. It was a public service work, something written for the public. Not for her.

_If you want to write, do it for yourself. Not for anyone else._

And, after ten years, she was finally taking her dad’s advice.

The new story wasn’t a gushy romance filled to the brim with pages on how meant-to-be the two main characters were. Rather, it would be pages and pages on the hopeless longing of two individuals. Each wanted something more than the lot they were given in life. They’d meet, over and over. And the time between each meeting would be spent wishing, yearning, longing. Oblivious to the feelings of the other, wanting something just out of reach.

Something they couldn’t have. Something they wouldn’t have.

It felt like too much, writing an ending in which they lived happily ever after. That was something she couldn’t do, not when she was certain she’d ever get one of her own. Which was heavy for her, at twenty-four. But her standards were near impossible, which was saying a lot considering Blythe had managed to find someone who fit her standards.

They were fueled with all the necessary items for a proper night in. Ice cream, popcorn, two pizzas (cheese and veggie), cheesy chick flicks, and the trashiest tabloids they could find at the supermarket. Some movie Derry picked was playing, neither of them really paying attention to it.

“Did you ever call that guy back?” Derry asked absently. She was flipping through one of the magazines, her dark eyes flitting back and forth between words and pictures.

“Who?”

Derry snorted. “The one you went on a date with. You said he was cute.”

It was hard to be invested in a cute, available guy when her heart was secured by someone who was most definitely not available. Thank you, pen pal Harry for being the perfect guy. And for ruining any guy’s chances with her.

“Oh, no.” She shook her head.

“Why not? Didn’t you have a good time?”

Sweet little naïve Derry. Sixteen, unmarred by the adult world. She had no clue how hard it really was.

“Yeah but-.”

“But what? If he’s cute and you had a good time, you should see him again. I’m not saying marry the guy, but at least give him the benefit of a second date. And if anything, you get another free meal.”

She paused before replying. It wasn’t a bad idea. Max was nice. Really nice. And he was cute. Available. Employed by a publishing company.

 _Do not do that_ , she chastised herself. _You can’t use a guy to get a book deal._

“When did you get so wise?” Ruby asked, taking one of the magazines for herself.

Derry shrugged and opened a bag of pre-popped popcorn. Some gluten free brand, which was the only kind she could eat. “I think I hang out with you too much.” She said, mouth full of popcorn.

Ruby flipped through the tabloid, only half-interested in whatever was happening in the world of the rich and famous.

“Have you ever been in love with someone you’ve never met?” Derry asked her.

Ruby looked up. She’d stopped on a **Where Are They Now?** story about past boybands. N-Sync, Backstreet Boys, 98 Degrees. The works of her own childhood. Some from Derry’s, the Jonas Brothers and One Direction.

“I-what?”

Derry held up a magazine. Harry Styles was on the cover. Gorgeous as sin. “I’m in love with him.” She sighed, clutching the magazine to her chest. Her eyes fluttered shut. “He’s the perfect man.”

Ruby laughed. “You don’t even know him.”

“Doesn’t matter. He can’t look the way he looks and not be some kind of Greek god.”

Derry had officially lost her mind.

_So get out, get out, get out of my mind_

_And come on, come into my life_

_I don’t, I don’t, don’t know what it is_

_But I need that one thing_

_And you’ve got that one thing_

“God, I fucking hate her!”

Something crashed and she swore glass broke.

“Blythe, chill out.” Alyse coaxed. “It’s not a big deal.”

Blythe Osterfeld was absolutely murderous. Her face was red and splotchy, hands shaking, eyes dark and wide. She hardly ever lost her head, but when she did…

“It _is_ a big deal!” Blythe screamed.

An urgent S.O.S. text had been sent out in the group chat. For three p.m. on a Sunday, it couldn’t be too extreme.

Ruby had been very, very wrong.

Blythe’s room was a disaster. The vase of flowers (classic red roses, her favorite and a gift from one Chip Wolcott) had been thrown on the floor. Water and rose petals were mixed with glass, a dangerous combination.

Not near as dangerous as the red-headed young woman wielding a Louboutin bootie.

Every Sunday, Blythe attended church with Chip and his parents. It was the only time Mrs. Wolcott was close to nice to her. She couldn’t dishonor the house of the Lord by being impolite towards her son’s girlfriend. However unsuitable she found her. Except, this time, there had been a guest.

Francesca Morrison. Chip’s high school girlfriend. A perfect by product of west coast rearing and Catholic schooling. Sweet, simple, mild-natured. Everything Blythe was not.

Blythe, as they all knew, was well aware of Francesca’s existence, she merely decided to pretend it was not so. Which was hard when her boyfriend’s mother doted on her like a daughter.

And then invited her to mass. And lunch after.

From her loud and shrieking retelling, the lunch had been a disaster. For every time Blythe mis-stepped, Francesca was four steps ahead. Blythe graduated second in their class at UCLA, Francesca was first at Brown. Blythe’s parents were separated (there was no divorce in the Catholic Church, only painful togetherness where it mattered), Francesca’s were happily married and vacationing in France.

And when they returned, the Morrison’s would be settling back into life in Los Angeles after living in England for several years. Francesca would be helping her father with the family business (Blythe thought it was something to do with clean food). At which, Mrs. Wolcott had been delighted to hear. And had promptly invited Francesca to join them on their annual trip to the Bahamas at the end of the summer. 

Which was Blythe’s coveted spot. One she well deserved, because it was no secret that Chip would propose there. It was a place chock full of their firsts. Special in every way.

Francesca may not have been aware, but she was locked in a competition with Blythe. Scored by Moira.

“She said she would go! That means _I_ can’t go! They only pay for six people.” Blythe had resorted to digging into the bag of salt and vinegar chips. It had an angry rip down the side. Several chips had spilled out onto floor.

“Did you tell them you weren’t going?” Alyse prodded in a gentle voice. “After Moira asked her to go.”

Blythe’s face blanched. Her cheeks were still comprised of bright red circles. “Maybe…”

“Blythe!”

“It just kind of happened!” Blythe cried out. She sank down onto the floor, taking the chips with her. She hung her head in shame. “After Francesca agreed to go, Moira asked if I’d be going. She had that stupid look in her eyes. The I-dare-you look. So, I made up some dumb excuse about going back to Manhattan to see my parents.”

Blythe hardly ever traveled back to the east coast to see her parents. Only on Easter and Christmas. And those were short trips.

“Jesus, Blythe. You have to stand your ground.” Ruby told her. “She’s never gonna back down if you don’t show her who the fuck you are.”

Blythe raised her head slowly. Her blue eyes were cool with perplexity. “You’re right. I’m Blythe fucking Osterfeld. I’m the best it’s gonna get for her son.”

“Hell yes!”

“I’m hot shit!”

“Yes you are!”

Downstairs, the doorbell rang. Blythe’s eyes widened. “Who is it?”

Mandy peeked out the window. She looked back, lip between her teeth. “Chip.”

“He can’t see me like this!” Blythe jumped to her feet and ran into the bathroom. The door slammed shut. “Someone stall him!”

Mandy snorted. “Can you believe her?” She shook her head. “B, his name is Chip. Like a freaking food. You could do a _lot_ better.”

Blythe’s fist slammed against the door. “Not. Helping.” Alyse muttered to Mandy.

“I’ll go get the boy.” Ruby climbed off the bed.

It was a long and solemn trip down to the small foyer. Ruby swung open the door. Chip Wolcott really was the perfect match for her friend. They complemented one another well. Blythe worked in accounting and Chip had just graduated from law school, taking a job at a well-respected firm in the city. He also loved cardigans as much as Blythe.

“Ruby. I was expec-.”

“Blythe, I know.” She smiled sympathetically. “She’s-.”

“In the bathroom, ensuring she looks _presentable_ , I’m sure.” And Chip knew Blythe better than the girl herself wanted to admit. “She knows I don’t care about things like that.”

Ruby let him in, and the door fell shut with a dull _thud_. As they stood silently in the foyer, Ruby took him in. Chip and Blythe had been together for almost five years. She’d lived in her house for almost three. _He had a key_. “Forget your keys?” She asked, leaning against the stair banister.

Chip smiled sheepishly. “Always forgetting them.” He shoved his hands in his pocket and she swore she heard the sound of his keys jingling.

No, she didn’t think he was.

“Right.” She said slowly. “She’ll be down in a few, I think.”

Chip nodded thoughtfully. For a minute, it was silent. “Mandy and Alyse here too?”

“Yup.”

“Lunch went worse than I thought, then.”

Before Ruby could find an appropriate response, Blythe was coming down the stairs. “Chip, I wasn’t expecting you.” Her words, however informal she tried to make them sound, still came out a bit rushed. Her whole person was. She tried to take her time down the stairs, but her feet were moving too fast for her to look wholly poised.

“Sorry for interrupting girl time. I locked myself out of the loft.”

Ruby suppressed a smile. He hadn’t.

“It’s fine.” Blythe smiled, her usual air returning. She reached the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes were still red from crying, something she tried to hide with eye drops. A bit of powder had hidden the redness of her cheeks. “I have your spare set in my office. I’ll go grab them.”

Blythe disappeared, ginger tresses swishing behind her. Ruby crossed her arms over her chest. “Go after her.” She nodded her head in the direction of the back of the house.

“I shouldn’t. She doesn’t like people in her office.”

“You aren’t just anyone. And get her out of here. Take her golfing. Or to a nice dinner later. And maybe have a talk with your mom…” Perhaps she had overstepped a line. That was _none_ of her business.

“Don’t worry. I have. I know Blythe isn’t what she wants for me, but she’s what _I_ want. That’s all I care about.”

The stern clearing of Blythe’s throat drew their attention. She was standing there, face painted in passive peace. But her eyebrows…she was bad at really hiding her feelings. Her eyebrows were downturned.

_Fuck, she’d really done it._

“Got them.” She held the keys up. She crossed the room and handed them to Chip.

“Thanks, honey.” He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. Blythe stiffened. “Want to get out of here? I think I hear the green calling our names.”

“Let me go upstairs and change.” Blythe nodded. “And get some sunscreen. You always burn so easy.”

“Take your time. I’ll wait in the living area.”

Ruby started up the stairs, that was her cue to get out of there. Before Blythe released a holy terror on her. Blythe hurried up behind her, grabbing her by the elbow.

“B, I’m so-.”

“Thank you.” She gushed quietly. Her smile was wobbly, and she seemed almost on the verge of tears again. This time, from happiness.

She laid her head on Ruby’s shoulder and they continued up the staircase.


	3. Three: Midnight Memories-Harry// July 14

_Straight off the plane to a new hotel_

_Just touched down you could never tell_

_A big house party with a crowded kitchen_

_People talk shh but we don’t listen_

He was _exhausted_. Traveling wore him out. Especially long flights. Everyone had fallen asleep once the plane took off. They’d left early in the morning, early enough that it would probably be the same time in L.A. as when they’d left London.

He, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep. Harry found sleep hard to come by on planes. He liked to have a bed, a real one to sleep in. So, instead, he read a letter.

It had arrived the day before. He hadn’t gotten the chance to read it yet, between packing and last-minute arrangements. Like always, he reread it several times, committing to memory the parts of her she was most willing to share.

**_Harry,_ **

**_I can’t believe you’ll be here soon! I’ll keep this letter short, because I want to tell you a lot of this in person. That would be better, right?_ **

**_I think Jude has finally left Derry alone, thank God. He put his notice in at the store. By notice, I mean he came in one day while neither of us were working and gave his nametag and key back to Thatch. So. Long. Doucheface._ **

**_Blythe had this HUGE meltdown Sunday. I won’t go into specifics, but it involves the mother of a certain boyfriend. I didn’t mention it yet because I really wanted to tell you the whole story in person, but forewarning, I think there’s a happy ending for my favorite couple._ **

**_Speaking of endings…I found my inspiration. I started it. The Book. I feel like I’ve been struck by lightning, I write all the time. It’s really coming along._ **

**_That’s all. The rest you get when we meet. Til then…_ **

**_R._ **

With a smile, he folded the letter and tucked it into his bag. She was writing. Really and truly writing. She’d found inspiration. But from _who?_ Wishful thinking made him believe it was himself. After all, he was always pushing her to write and take chances. Realistic thinking pointed otherwise. Perhaps to her date- Max, that was his name- or her friends? Family? Work? It could’ve been anything.

He was just glad she found what she needed to get it done.

It was just after seven in the morning when they touched down. They were checked in to the hotel and settled by eight-thirty. He was on fire.

Los Angeles. They were in the same city. He was going to meet her. Tomorrow. But still. That was _soon_. Soon and yet too much of an amount of time he didn’t want to wait. He knew exactly what he wanted to do.

She’d be at work. The bookshop opened at eight. He didn’t have plans the next two days, save for the party Mitch was dragging him to. He could spend the day at the shop with her, watching her do whatever she did while working. He’d take her out to a nice meal.

Yes, that was all good.

His hand was insistent in its pounding against Jeff’s door. A few minutes passed before Jeff opened. He had clearly been back to sleep.

“God Almighty, what the hell do you want?”

“I need to go out.”

Jeff narrowed his eyes. It was nearly nine. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Not anymore.”

“Need detail?”

Definitely not. He didn’t want to freak her out too much at first. Of course, she’d recognize him as Harry Styles. Not Harry, her pen pal. That was enough, he didn’t want to add security detail into that.

“No. I’ll make it work.” Harry promised.

In fact, he already had. He was wearing an inconspicuous grey sweatshirt and a dark colored cap that covered his iconic- and much loved- hair. Sunglasses did the final trick.

“Be careful. Call if you need help.” With one last suspicious look, Jeff shut his room door.

It was just nearing ten when he found himself standing outside Jupiter House Bookseller. It was a quaint little shop. He saw a girl sitting at the counter, flipping through a magazine. Dark hair, medium toned skin.

Was that…?

“Don’t get too excited.” He told himself. All too fast, the bundle of flowers in his hand felt heavy.

Sunflowers, her favorite.

With a shaking deep breath, he pushed open the door. The bell dinged. The girl looked up.

“Aw, you shouldn’t have.” She sat up straight. “Wait, who’re you?”

The voice…Not Ruby. His heart sank. He was sure she’d said she’d be working.

“I-uh, I’m looking for R-Ruby.” Why the hell was he stuttering? He’d spent the past eight years performing in front of thousands of people, but the idea of one girl made him turn to jelly spread.

The girl frowned. This, he realized, was Derry. “Are you Max?” She eyed him carefully.

“No…”

Her dark, doe-like eyes widened. “Shit. How many guys-?” She cut herself off in a prompt silence. “Sorry, the flowers threw me off. How do you know her?”

“Old friends. I’m in town for a while. Thought I’d pop in and…surprise her.” A bad idea. His skin was hot.

Was she still seeing the Max guy? She hadn’t mentioned it to him past the one date which had ended with an opossum chase. Her love life wasn’t really any of his business, though.

Derry smiled. “That’s so cute! She’s obviously not here right now. Said she’d be late. You can wait, if you want…Or I can give her the flowers when she gets back…?”

He nodded, tongue feeling especially heavy. He didn’t want to wait around like a creep. He’d just leave the flowers. He walked up to the counter and handed the bouquet over.

“Sunflowers. She likes those.” Derry told him.

He knew that.

“Want to leave a note?”

He nodded again. She handed him a small piece of paper and a pen.

**_Ruby,_ **

**_Stopped by to surprise you. Bad planning on my part. See you tomorrow night._ **

**_-H._ **

He handed the note back to Derry and she stuck it under the flowers. “Thanks.” He mumbled. He turned, practically bee-lining for the door.

“Can I ask you something?” She called just as his hand grazed the doorknob.

He half-turned to face her. “Yeah.”

“Are you the guy she’s always texting?”

They did text, a lot.

“Because,” Derry started before he could intercept with his own words, “if you are, I’ve never seen her smile like she does when you text her.”

That little sliver of hope, a little thread, was all he needed. He was perfectly fine letting himself think he was the one who made her smile like that.

_Tell me that I’m wrong but I do what I please_

_Way too many people in the Addison Lee_

_Now I’m at the age when I know what I need_

His cheeks were still hot with embarrassment when he got back to the hotel. How could he have just assumed she’d be there? What an idiot.

The whole ride up the lift to his room, he chided himself over and over. Just as he stepped from the lift, his phone rang.

 **Ruby** , the screen flashed.

His heart surged. “Hi.” He answered, gulping down the lump in his throat.

“I can’t believe I missed you!” She was practically shouting.

“Yeah, it was kind of a last-minute decision.” He told her.

“Why didn’t you stay? I think we just missed each other.”

He collapsed onto the large bed, hugging a pillow to his chest. “Pretty exhausted. I just wanted to stop in and drop the flowers off. Do you like them?”

“They’re beautiful, thank you. It took Derry forever to remember you coming in. She gets distracted by shiny things.”

He laughed. He could sense that about the young girl.

“She uh, she said you were in disguise…?”

Disguise…? Oh, the cap and glasses. “Jet lag.” He amended. “Didn’t want your first impression of me being how I look like a zombie post-flight.”

She giggled, a purely symphonic sound that made his throat tighten. God, he wanted to _see_ her. To know her in person and not just through text or on paper. “You must be tired. I’ll let you get some rest.”

“I’m fine, really.”

She scoffed in remark. “I have a hard time believing that, Mister. Get some sleep.”

She was gone before he could even say goodbye.

So, maybe he had been tired. Tired enough to take a three hour nap. He most likely would have slept longer, had Mitch not (rudely) awoken him for lunch. The band was, as Mitch had stated bluntly, “fucking starving.”

Rather than risk the crazed chaos of eating out, they decided to dine in the hotel restaurant. Tomorrow would be the start of Los Angeles craziness. There was a small show at a little amphitheater at one. After that, Harry had his own plans.

With Ruby.

“Harry, heard Mitch is dragging you out tonight?” Sarah asked, stabbing into her salad.

Mitch grinned at him. Not necessarily did he want to go to some house party in the Hills, but it was Mitch asking. And if Mitch endorsed the party, it couldn’t be terrible.

“Can’t wait to be surrounded by kegs and drunkards.” Harry joked.

Mitch rolled his eyes. “It’s not a frat party. It’s going to be an absolute banger. Raf says so.”

Oh, _Raf_. Mitch’s hookup for L.A.

Not hookup in the intimate sense. Raf was always keen on alerting Mitch of any raging parties going on while they were in town.

“It’s a house party.” Harry deadpanned. “How fun can it really be?”

“Loads!” Mitch insisted. “Raf says parties in the Hills never get busted by the police.” He looked around at the others. “You guys really should come. It’ll be fun!”

Sarah and Clare looked between each other. “Mitch…” Clare said quietly.

“We’ll go.” Adam decided. Sarah, Clare, and Alex shot him looks of murder. “Come on, he says it’ll be fun. Mitch is hardly ever wrong about this stuff.”

Clare’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “You owe me, Prendergast.”

He saluted her.

“Yes!” Mitch fisted the air. “This will be the best!”

Harry sighed and took out his phone.

 **I’m up. You were right. Rest was needed.** 1:28 p.m.

His phone buzzed on top of the table. He smiled at the sight of her name.

 **I usually am. Tomorrow at six, right?** 1:29 p.m.

 **On the nose. Want me to pick you up?** 1:30 p.m.

It was unusual being in the same time zone as her. There was no worrying about disturbing her sleep or accidentally keeping her awake. While strange, he relished in the fact that they were operating on the same schedule.

For the most part.

Several minutes passed without a response. He probably shouldn’t have offered to pick her up. The last thing he wanted was her thinking he was some creep off the street.

She replied, a rapid succession of buzzes that curled his stomach.

“You gonna get that?” Clare pointed at his phone with her knife.

“Huh?” He blinked.

She laughed quietly. “Your phone, Harry. It’s buzzed like seven times.”

He nodded absently, earning a laugh from Mitch. “Probably his girlfriend.”

Alex lurched forward for his phone. Harry grabbed his phone before he could get it. “You have a girlfriend and didn’t say anything?” Alex questioned.

“I do _not_ have a girlfriend.” He snapped, shooting a glare at Mitch.

Mitch chuckled. “Then who’re you always texting?” Harry blanched. Mitch turned to the others. “Always on his phone. Tell me you guys don’t notice?”

Sarah, at least, seemed sympathetic. “Leave him alone, Mitch. He’s allowed to have secrets like the rest of us.”

Her gentle reprimand was enough to set Mitch on his hinds. Harry sent her a silent mouthed _thank you_ before turning to his phone.

 **Yeah, work is fine!** 1:36 p.m.

There were several texts after the first.

 **Wait, no, at my apartment.** 1:36 p.m.

 **But you know where I work so maybe that’s better.** 1:36 p.m.

 **God, I’m a dumbass I can give you my address.** 1:36 p.m.

He smiled, she was kind of a fluster. The last message contained her address.

 **It’s 1432 West Ridge Circle. Apartment 2D.** 1:37 p.m.

“She the reason you’re ditching us tomorrow night?” Sarah was leaned over towards him. “The girl you’ve been texting.” She nodded her head towards his phone. Her voice was quiet, enough so that no one else could hear.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He defended.

Sarah smiled sweetly. “C’mon, Haz. You can tell me.”

He sighed, rubbing his chin. “She’s an old friend. We’re meeting for dinner.”

“How old a friend?”

“’Round fourteen years.”

“You like her?”

His eyes snapped onto her. She couldn’t be serious.

“What? No, why would you-?”

Sarah laughed quietly, shaking her head. “Haz, you’re a sight, you know?” She said nothing else before returning to her former stance and continuing on with her food.

_Midnight memories_

_Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh_

_Baby you and me_

_Stumbling in the street_

_Singing, singing, singing, singing_

_Midnight memories_

_Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh_

_Anywhere we go, never say no_

_Just do it, do it, do it, do it_

The paper was filled with dark inked words. Half had been scratched out with harsh lines. The other half had…potential. He liked them, but he wasn’t sure if it was enough for a song. Maybe…maybe a non-release. Yeah, that could work.

He glanced over at the clock. The time flashed at him, a cruel reminder of just how much time lay between him and _her_. How much? How little?

At times, it felt like too much. There were too many hours, minutes, seconds between now and their meeting. Too much time for him to back out (the nerves in his stomach knew no bounds), for her to change her mind. There was the very real and terrifying possibility he would not live up to her expectations.

Which, he knew, was stupid to think. He was Harry Styles. An international music sensation. He hated to think of himself that way, but it was the truth. But to her, he was just Harry. There was no last name, no pre-solo band career. He was only Harry. He wanted to stay that way for her, another nameless face in the crowd but that wasn’t possible. What if she didn’t want him? As Harry or Harry Styles?

On the other end, it wasn’t enough time. Fifteen hours wasn’t enough of a time frame. He found it nearly impossible to prepare himself for the meeting of his lifetime. Yes, his lifetime.

This was different. The meeting between himself and this girl. Someone he’d known for upwards of fourteen years but had never met. A girl who haunted his every dream and waking thought. She had infected him, poisoned his brain and he didn’t even know her face. How could fifteen hours be enough time to face _that_?

No amount of preparation would do. And he didn’t even know her last name.

He was a mess. An absolute wreck.

God, how had he become someone whose thoughts revolved around a singular being? At what age, with what handwritten letter, had he become so enraptured with the idea of her? He didn’t remember falling in love. He couldn’t pinpoint an exact day or the time when he’d held one of her letters a little closer to his heart. Perhaps he had always loved her.

Deep down, he knew that was the case. He knew that was the reason, the real one, as to why none of his relationships worked out. The idea of her was too tantalizing, too sweet to give up on. He couldn’t love someone else when she was the keeper of his heart and soul.

Even if she didn’t know it.

 _She_.

At that, he tore the piece of paper from the notepad and started fresh. Inspiration buzzed in him, new and generous. He may not have been her inspiration, but she was his.

The song was finished in what he considered record time. A perfect fit for the new album. A song for her, about her. He sighed, resting his head on the curved headboard of the bed.

What he’d give for a night in, some alone time before everything in his world changes. But alas, Mitch conned the others into going out with them and he can’t back out after that. It’ll be good quality bonding time, not that they necessarily need it because they’re together almost all the time.

A quick shower and hasty shave (God, does he have a baby face when there’s a lack of facial) left him at an absence of what to wear. He packed clothes to last upwards of three months (knowing there was no way they’d be in L.A. that long). Show clothes, pyjamas, lounge wear. Hardly anything acceptable for a party in Beverly Hills. He assumed anything he put on would do and he wasn’t one to fret on looking out of place. But he wasn’t too keen on drawing a lot of attention to himself so early on in the trip. Therefore, he opted for a pair of slim-fitting denims, a white cotton tee and leather jacket. Informal enough for a house affair.

 _Better call Mum_ , he told himself, _been here all day and haven’t dropped a ring._

His mother understood his schedule rather well and took it in graceful strides. But he didn’t ever want her to feel he was forgetting her. He plucked his phone from the bed and dialed her mobile.

“You made it there?” Were the first words she greets him with.

“Safe and sound this morning. Meant to call but I fell asleep.”

She was an understanding soul, maybe too much. “S’all right, lovie. Just glad you made it in. Gems and I were just talking about you.”

“Were you? And what was my pest of a sister pouring into you?”

He must’ve be on speaker, because he heard Gemma’s rotten-sweet laugh in the background. “Only the worst!”

He shook his head, his heart panging. As much as he loved what he did, it put him at an inconsiderable loss for family time. More often than not, he missed his days before X Factor when life had been easier. Quieter.

“Mum, can you take me off speaker? Got a question for ya.”

Gemma made an indignant noise.

A few moments passed before he heard the soft sound of a door closing. “Everything all right, baby boy?”

He scratched the side of his neck. His mother was, in every way, the reason he had Ruby. She had signed him up for the entire pen pal process as a ‘gift’ when he was ten. Which meant, she was the only person who knew Ruby even existed within his life.

“I’m in Los Angeles.”

“Yes, I know.” She laughed. “You’ve been before.”

He couldn’t contain it. The words spilled out like he had gotten sick of holding them in. The messaging, phone calls, their plans. He even admitted to the mishap with the flowers earlier that morning.

“Oh, deary.” She said in a soft, quiet voice. “You’re stricken, aren’t you?”

“Mum.”

She made a ticking noise with her tongue. “Don’t be unnerved, lovie. The two of you have been friends for ages.” He didn’t have to tell her that it wasn’t the ‘friends’ part that had him unraveling. “She’ll love you, Harry. It’s been near fifteen years, you’re as much a part of her as she is of you.”

That didn’t mean she felt the way he did. There was no guarantee of a happy ending on his part.

“It’ll be just fine, dear. I promise.”

“You don’t know that.”

She laughed. “’Course I do. I’m your mother. You’ll call me after to fill me in?”

“Wouldn’t dream of anything else.”

There was a knock on his door. Sharp, insistent, impatient. _Mitch_.

“Gotta go, Mum.” He sighed. “Give Gemma a kiss for me.”

“Will do, lovie.” She made a kissing noise herself before hanging up.

He ran his hands through his hair and pocketed his phone. “Out into the jungle, then.” He murmured.

_Five foot something with the skinny jeans_

_Don’t look back baby follow me_

_I don’t know where I’m going but I’m finding my way_

_Same old shh but a different day_

She’d caught his eye the moment he’d seen her. She was in the living area of the house, surrounded by several others. Light hair, wheat in the midday sun, pulled back in a half-done updo. She was speaking, words lost under the blaring music.

“Who is that?” Harry asked Raf as the man handed him a drink. He sniffed it, his nose instantly crinkling. Some kind of flavored vodka mixed with something sugary.

Raf shrugged. “I have no idea, my man. Not my party, remember?”

Ah, right. Raf was just a liaison for good times. He let Mitch know about parties and Mitch was responsible for showing up.

“Who’s the host?” He asked before taking a cautious sip of the drink. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t the best he’d had.

Raf frowned, looking around. “Some guy they call Fresno.”

“ _Fresno_?” Harry choked on the liquid in his mouth. It was sweet, like strawberries.

Raf chuckled and took a sip of his beer. “It’s a nickname from college. His real name is Cal.”

“Would he know her?”

Raf shrugged again. “Probably. Most of the girls are from his old circle. I’ll find him.” Raf left him with a pat on the shoulder.

When he turned back, the girl was gone. He frowned, looking around. No sign of her.

It was two hours later when he saw her again. He was thoroughly intoxicated. Mitch kept a steady supply of drinks in his hand. So much so that he could no longer properly taste what he was drinking. His skin was warm, head buzzing with all the activity. The music was loud and the house full.

She was sitting on the island counter in the kitchen. Her legs swung in a peaceful and slow pattern, attention trained on the guy in front of her. He said something that made her laugh, the noise prickling some instinctive familiarity in the back of Harry’s mind.

Her eyes drifted and then, they were on him.

He swallowed.

A close-lipped smile graced her face. His stomach filled and he recognized the fluttering feeling as butterflies.

He clenched his hand into a fist, mentally prepping himself to walk right up to her. He had taken the first step when her attention was drawn away. There was someone else speaking to her, a guy. Tall, shaggy dusty blond hair. He was tan, the kind of tan that came from countless hours in the sun. A puka shell necklace was tied around his throat, peeking out beneath the unbuttoned area of his Hawaiian shirt.

“Seriously?” He heard her gasp.

His eyebrows downturned in intrigue. The guy nodded.

“Fucking hell.” She slid down from the countertop and thrusted her cup in his hand. “Jeez, Cal, and you left her alone?”

 _Cal_. The host of the night’s soiree. Better known as Fresno. “What was I supposed to do? She’s just throwing up.”

The girl shoved past him and darted out of the room. Cal shook his head finished her drink. He tossed the cup in the sink.

“What’s her deal?” Harry asked, taking a drink from his own beverage.

Cal rolled his eyes. “Her crazy ass friend is puking her guts up in one of the upstairs bathrooms. She was crying so much she just started, you know…” He made a gagging noise.

The noise sounded worse than actual vomiting.

“She’ll be fine.” Cal assured him. “Mandy is notorious for stuff like this. Has been since college.”

Mandy…? The name sounded familiar, like he should have known it.

“You all know each other?”

Cal busied himself with pouring another drink from the keg. “Unfortunately. We all went to UCLA. My boy over there,” he motioned with his index finger to a guy near the archway to the living area who looked extremely out of place in his sweater vest and khakis, “is dating their friend. I personally call her the Devil. Real bitch, she is.”

Harry frowned.

“Ah, here they come.” Cal muttered.

Harry turned. Four girls were walking back through the kitchen. Cal said something indiscernible under his breath, but Harry was no longer paying attention. The girls, they were a force. The crowd parted for them naturally.

The shortest one’s face was blotchy and appeared wet. Her dark hair was pulled back in a high done ponytail. The arm of the girl to her right was wrapped around her shoulder. The other two flanked them. The tallest, a thin and sharp-dressed ginger, seemed to be leading them.

She walked right next to Cal. “Your party sucks ass, Calvin.”

“From what I’ve heard, so do you, Osterfeld.” He snickered.

Her mouth puckered and she shoved him back. “Grow up.” She sneered. She looked back at her friends. “I’ll grab Chip and we can Uber back to mine.”

“No, I wanna stay.” The shortest one- who he assumed was Mandy- insisted. “Please. I can still have a good time.”

The other three looked between them. The girl- his girl (not really but he didn’t know what to call her)- took Mandy from the other. “You guys can go. I don’t care to stay.”

“Thank God.” The ginger said airily. “Let’s get the hell out of here before I catch a disease.” She grabbed the fourth girl by the arm and dragged her away.

“Thanks for staying with me.” Mandy hugged the last girl left.

“Anytime.” Her eyes lifted and found his.

And she smiled.

_Tell me that I’m wrong but I do what I please_

_Way too many people in the Addison Lee_

_Now I’m at the age when I know what I need_

It was late. Ungodly late. There were only a handful of people left at the party. Most of the band had left, leaving he and Mitch to fend for themselves. The party had dissolved into a relaxing, chill environment. The music had been turned down and switched from fast-paced dance and rap to an earthy, yet energetic beat.

“Never seen you here before.”

The voice threw him off.

She was standing next to him, her denim jacket hanging loosely from her shoulder. The neck of a hard ale bottle was hugged between her fingers. Her eyes were trained at the center of the living area where her friend, Mandy, was dancing eccentrically. Not at all on beat with the music.

“Not from ‘round here.” He told her.

She mused a little smile. “Clearly.” She noted his accent. “What brings you to L.A.?”

He shrugged. “Work.” And then, he took a second. She’d been drinking, not enough to completely debilitate her senses. “You know who I am…?”

She put her bottle on the table. “I was trying to play a game.” She said. “I didn’t figure you came to a dumb Beverly Hills house party for the publicity.”

He smiled, pushing a piece of hair from his face. “Thanks. What’re you doing here?”

She pointed her thumb towards Mandy. The other girl had since stopped dancing and had accepted another drink. “So, how’d you find out about this?”

Mitch arrived, slinging his arm around Harry’s shoulder. “Little birdie named Raf fills me in on this stuff.” Mitch told her.

Her eyes sparked. Blue. They were blue. Cornflower, precisely. “Same for us.” When she smiled, it reached her eyes. “I’m R-.”

Mandy collided into her, dropping her drink on the floor. “Damn it. Fourth time tonight.” Her words were slurred nearly to unintelligible means.

His mystery girl raised her eyebrows. “Time for you to go home, then. You can sleep at my place.”

Mandy protested, trying to back away from her friend. The girl grabbed her by the wrist. “No, I don’t wanna go, R-.” Her sentence was cut off by a quiet choking noise. Her mouth fell open and she doubled over. She made a wretching noise and her vomit went all over Mitch’s shoes.

“Oh, God.” Her friend groaned.

Mitch stared at them in disbelief, eyes wide, mouth locked shut.

“Sorry.” Mandy mumbled.

The girl hooked her arm around Mandy’s waist. Mandy rested her head on her shoulder. “I’d better get her home.” She said to them. To Mitch, “Some club soda should do the trick. If not, there’s a good dry cleaner on Mountain Park. Leave the bill for Mandy Westlund, she’d be happy to pay for it.”

At that, she hauled Mandy from the living area and out the front door.

Harry’s shoulders slumped. He hadn’t gotten her name. All night and a whole conversation and he’d never managed to ask for her name.

 _Idiot,_ he told himself.

_Midnight memories_

_Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh_

_Baby you and me_

_Stumbling in the street_

_Singing, singing, singing, singing_

_Midnight memories_

_Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh_

_Anywhere we go, never say no_

_Just do it, do it, do it, do it_

Nine in the morning and he was still solidly in disbelief that he’d never asked the girl for her name. He could hardly even remember what she looked like, save for the soft blue of her eyes.

Mitch wasn’t too thoroughly upset about his shoes. However, he’d been right pissed at Adam’s amusement towards the story.

“Are you gonna get them dry-cleaned?” Clare asked. “They offered to pay.”

Mitch had left the shoes to absorb in the club soda, hopeful that the home remedy would do the trick. “Wouldn’t have happened if rock star over here,” he threw his arm around Harry, “hadn’t been so dismal in his attempt to flirt with her friend.”

The group of them were enjoying a late breakfast before heading out to the small show Jeff had booked. It was styled as a secret, only a hundred or two people in the know. Just enough to generate a buzz about his being in the city. Which he thought was a terrible idea but could not tell anyone was to why. So, he rolled with the punches.

“Harry Styles?” Alex grinned.

“Having trouble flirting?” Adam added.

“Never heard of it.” Sarah laughed.

Harry groaned. “Shut it, the lot of you.” He warned. “I wasn’t even flirting.”

Mitch leaned back in his chair. “You know, you’re right.” He amended, a cruel smile on his face. “Can’t call that butcher job flirting. It was more like watching a cat drown.”

Alex choked on his coffee. “That bad?”

Mitch’s retelling of the story including Harry floundering for words to the point where the girl was happy to leave, vomiting friend and all.

“That is not what happened.” Harry said in a rather insistent manner. “We were just having a nice conversation and I didn’t happen to get her number.”

Sarah shot him a look to which he promptly ignored.

The girl- whatever her name was- had been pretty, he was sure. Enough to capture his attention for a few hours and take his worry off the idea of everything to do with the one pen pal named Ruby.

But, that therein lied the problem. The pretty girl with the cornflower blue eyes was not his girl. His girl, well, he didn’t know what she looked like. But he knew that she smelled of strawberries and had a pearl oyster tattooed on her right wrist. She spent hours holed away in a little bookstore and over half her life had been dedicated to immersing herself in a world of written words.

His heart was on reserve for her, whether she wanted it or not.

_You and me and all our friends_

_I don’t care how much we spend_

_Baby this is what the night is for_

_I know nothing’s making sense_

_For tonight let’s just pretend_

_I don’t wanna stop so give me more_

There was a crowd. Albeit, smaller than those on tour, but enough of one to cause blood to well up in his ears. Even after eight years of performing, he still got a rush. A mixture of adrenaline and nerves that shot through him like cold water.

“Ready?” Jeff patted him on the back.

“Born ready.” He nodded.

The band was already out, teasing the crowd with the different intros to the songs from his first solo album. “Knock ‘em down.”

At that, he found himself casually walking out onto the little amphitheater stage. The boom of the crowd increased sevenfold and he was forever thankful for his earplugs.

“Hello, Los Angeles!” He waved, the ruffle sleeve of his white shirt rippling in the breeze.

The rush was gone the moment he stepped out in front of the audience. It had dissipated and been replaced by a strong wave of calm that settled over him.

The stage was where he was meant to be.

Four p.m. A three hour show of singing, dancing (attempting to, anyway), and finally, sitting and talking with two hundred and fifty fans. He was sopping in sweat. He didn’t remember the L.A. heat being so unkind.

Jeff handed him his phone as soon as he stepped off the stage. He had two hours before he was supposed to pick up Ruby. That gave him plenty of time to get back, clean up, and stress over what to wear.

“Car’s waiting on you.” Jeff told him. “We’ll meet you back at the hotel.”

He nodded and said quick goodbyes to the band. Sarah winked at him. It was meant to be a reassuring comfort, but it only sent a wave of nausea through him. 

When had fifteen hours become two?

Harry slid into the backseat of the sleek black sedan. A burst of cool air rushed over him. God bless air conditioning.

“Back to the hotel?” His driver for the duration of the trip was a guy named Craig.

“Please. And then I’ll need a ride later.”

Craig shot him a questioning look through the rearview. He said nothing on the unscheduled trip before pulling away from the venue and heading back towards the Sunset Marquis.

Alone and beginning to finally cool down, he properly checked his phone. He had a text from Ruby.

 **Hope you’re hungry!** 3:47 p.m.

He couldn’t help but smile. An increase in joy had become instinct over the duration of their texting. Each message he received from her resulted in a slight smile.

As if on cue, his stomach rumbled. Performing always worked up an appetite. He couldn’t afford to sit down and eat when he was due to have dinner with her. She was so excited to show him this place that he didn’t want to spoil any part of the evening.

 **Starving. Just got done with work. See you soon.** 4:10 p.m.

He pocketed his phone as the car rolled to a standstill. He looked up. There was a deep line of traffic ahead. Still. Unmoving.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding.” He muttered.

Craig glanced back at him. “Sorry, kid. Might be here a while.”

No. No. That could not happen. He could not be stuck in traffic when he was due to meet her in…an hour and forty-eight minutes. He was gross, covered in his own sweat. His clothes were melded to him, hair a wet, flopping mess on his head.

He had to look his absolute best.

“Call Jeff.” He instructed Craig.

“What the hell is your manager going to do?” He laughed. “He’s powerful, but he can’t make traffic move.”

Harry groaned. “Tell him I’ll walk back. It’s not that far, right?”

Craig’s face said otherwise.

At the rate traffic was going (or not going), on foot had to be faster.

He’d run if need be.

“Sorry, Craig.” He threw open the car door and vaulted out.

_Midnight memories_

_Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh_

_Baby you and me_

_Stumbling in the street_

_Singing, singing, singing, singing_

_Midnight memories_

_Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh_

_Anywhere we go, never say no_

_Just do it, do it, do it, do it_

Harry Styles was not lost in Los Angeles. He just…didn’t have a great understanding of his physical whereabouts. Some of the places looked familiar but the street names were a whole different meaning. He’d never paid attention to stuff like that, preferring to find his way by happenstance and the remembrance of the shops and landmarks.

Which had failed him in this instance because he had no clue where he was.

“Is that…?”

“It is!”

“Talk about big bucks!”

His blood chilled. Discreetly, he glanced behind himself. A small group of people had culminated several paces behind him. Each person had an expensive looking camera strung around their neck.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He groaned.

_Paparazzi._

He quickened his pace. If he got caught up with them, he’d never make it back.

“Harry!”

“Wait up!”

“Let us get a couple pictures!”

They were growing closer and closer. He heard the snapshot sounds of their cameras, felt the heat of the flash.

Cursing himself for ever leaving the car (why could he not have just said he’d be late?), he broke into a run. The surrounding shops became a blur and feeling mostly safe, he heeled around a corner. Without double-checking to make sure he’d lost them, he pushed open the door to the shop closest to him.

Above him, a bell dinged, signaling his entrance.

He pressed the door shut hastily and ducked down.

“Welcome to Jupiter House. Coffee’s free. Books aren’t.”

His breath caught.

By simple deduction, he could have figured out who the voice belonged to. But he didn’t need that. Not when he’d spent the past few weeks hearing it on the phone.

He would have known that voice anywhere.

His heart hammered in his ear as his eyes found a resting place.

She was sitting behind the counter, an old-age pen twirled between her finger. A dark slash of ink smeared on her forearm, speckles of it dotting her hands. Light hair formed into a haphazard bun, several tendrils framing her face. Glasses down near the end of her nose.

On her right wrist, a tattoo. _Pearl oyster_.

His legs were filled with jelly, knees shaking, feet turned stone.

The shop was quiet, empty save for the two of them. He swallowed and willed himself forward.

Her eyes lifted from the notebook they had so mercilessly been trained on. And when they fell on him, he felt it all align.

The planets, the galaxy, the universe. All of it. It had all been for that moment.

It was her.

_Ruby._


	4. Four: Something Great-Ruby// July 15

_One day you’ll come into my world and say it all_

_You say we’ll be together even when you’re lost_

_One day you’ll say these words_

_I thought you’ll never say_

_You say we’re better off together in our bed_

She was late. In her almost seven years of working at Jupiter House, she’d never been late. It was a hard job to be late for, considering she wanted to be there. At least, thank God, Derry was there.

She was spending a little more time at the store. Which was good. And bad. Good in the sense that there weren’t seventy-five thousand things Ruby had to do on her own. Derry liked putting new inventory up in the store, which was the bulk of time spent on work duties. Her newfound interest in her father’s store gave Ruby less time than usual to work on her book.

Derry talked, when allowed, a mile a minute. Her need for a listening ear prevented Ruby from making any real headway on the novel. Once, she would’ve been thankful for the distraction but now that she’d found real inspiration, all she wanted to do was delve deep and finish the story.

It was hot. God awful, sweltering, skin-moistened-on-outside-contact hot. How could it be so hot for only 10:30 in the morning?

She pushed open into the store and stood still. Right above the door was one of the air vents. Cold air breezed down on her and she closed her eyes. _Relief._

“Ew, you’re sweaty.” Derry called out from behind the counter.

“It’s hotter than the Devil’s ass outside.”

Derry raised an eyebrow at her selective language.

Ruby crossed the storefront and slid behind the counter. By the register was a bouquet of lively sunflowers, wrapped in brown paper. A note was attached to the top of the bundle.

Derry had an admirer…?

Interesting.

“Sorry I’m late.” Ruby groaned, pulling her hair off the back of her neck.

Derry shrugged apathetically. “Not like you’re missing anything.” The store was, as usual, empty. “I already dusted and straightened the shelves. Adjusted merchandise. Swept and mopped.”

Oh, she was bored.

Ruby once again eyed the flowers. Her favorites.

Derry didn’t even _like_ sunflowers. She was a hopeless red roses girl.

The younger girl hardly seemed to care that someone had been kind enough to give her flowers. She had to admit, she was a little jealous that the sixteen-year-old had someone bringing flowers and she had…nothing. She couldn’t remember the last time someone have given her flowers.

Well, if Derry wasn’t going to address it…, “So, who gave you the flowers?”

Derry looked up from her phone, brows knit down, mouth agape. “Wha?”

“The flowers.” Ruby flourished her hand. “Who gave them to you?”

Derry nearly fell from her stool. “Shit!” She half-screamed. “I can’t believe I forgot!” Ah, there was her favorite teenage girl.

Ruby sat back and waited for her to find her calm level.

“They’re for you!” Derry grinned.

She blinked. They were for _who_?

“No joke! Some British dude came in earlier and left them for you. Said you were friends.”

A British guy…?

Holy. Shit.

Harry.

“What-What did he look like?” Her effort to sound nonchalant failed as her voice rose. How had she missed him?

Damn it, if she hadn’t been late.

Derry shrugged. “He was in disguise or something. Sunnies, baseball cap. Looked kinda sketch but he seemed nice.”

In disguise? It had to be him, she didn’t know another guy with a British accent. Weird. She reached and grabbed the flowers. They were still fresh. She’d just barely missed him. They smelled good, better than normal sunflowers smelled.

She plucked off the note, instantly recognizing his looped and messy script.

**_Ruby,_ **

**_Stopped by to surprise you. Bad planning on my part. See you tomorrow night. -H_ **

She sighed, laying both the note and flowers on the counter. “Be right back.” She mumbled.

Derry barely noticed her exit to the backroom, once again absorbed in her phone. Ruby took out her phone and called him.

“Hi.” He sounded…sleepy. Or down. Maybe he was just as upset that they’d missed one another.

She leaned against the wall, glancing out at the storefront. “I can’t believe I missed you!”

“Yeah, it was kind of a last minute decision.”

So…had he wanted to see her or not? All signs pointed to yes, especially since he’d shown up unannounced and with flowers.

“Why didn’t you stay? I think we just missed each other.” Maybe it would’ve been better to meet as a surprise. She hadn’t been able to get rid of the constant feeling of having butterflies flitting around her stomach since she’d woken up that morning. But she needed the preparation. Her outfit was picked out, a hairstyle chosen. She needed the time for mental readiness.

“Pretty exhausted. I just wanted to stop in and drop the flowers off.” He did sound tired. She was sure the flight had taken a while and the time change probably wasn’t too kind to him. “Do you like them?”

How could she not? They were, after all, her favorites. She couldn’t remember telling him her favorite flower. “They’re beautiful, thank you.” She knew the perfect place for them in the apartment. She’d have to buy a vase. She couldn’t keep anything alive except a cactus and even that was a miracle of Heaven. She’d work extra hard to keep her new flowers alive and vibrant. “It took Derry forever to remember you coming in. She gets distracted by shiny things.” I.E., her phone. Her newest model iPhone was done out in a sparkling case of pink and white and gold.

“Heard that!” Derry shouted from the front.

Ruby rolled her eyes. “She uh, she said you were in disguise…?”

Something that sounded like a bed creaked. “Jet lag.” He excused. “Didn’t want your first impression of me being how I look like a zombie post-flight.” She had absolutely no doubt that she wouldn’t have thought that.

She laughed quietly. “You must be tired. I’ll let you rest.”

“’m fine, really.” And yet, he sounded like he was about to fall asleep as they were speaking.

“I have a hard time believing that, Mister.” It was the tone she reserved for babysitting. Softer, she said, “Get some sleep.” She hung up before he could protest.

Just as she was about to head back to the front, her phone dinged. It was a text from Alyse, in the group chat.

 **Beach?** 10:32 a.m.

 **Yes! It’s hot as fuck.** 10:32 a.m. from Mandy

 **We’re in. 3 of us will meet you there.** 10:33 a.m. from Blythe

Alyse messaged Ruby out of the group and said she’d pick her up from work and they’d move from there.

“Guess I’m going.” She sighed. It was a welcoming idea. She didn’t necessarily want to be stuck in the store all day. She hopped back out to the storefront. “Let’s close up early.” She suggested.

“Oh, thank God.” Derry all but jumped from her stool. She grabbed her bag from the floor and slung it over her shoulder. “I was hoping you’d say something. Viv is throwing a pool party and I wanted to go.” She slid her tank aside to give a peek at her bathing suit top.

Always prepared.

“Peace and love!” And she was out the door.

_I want you here with me_

_Like how I pictured it_

_So I don’t have to keep imagining_

“Absolutely not.”

The July heat of Los Angeles was not a thing to be trifled with. There were days when it was bearable to be out and about. There were days when it was safest indoors, cool by the breeze of fans and air conditioning. And, there were days when it was just barely safe to be on the beach.

It happened to be one of those days. For everyone.

The shores of Paradise Cove were jam packed. Families had escaped the confines of their houses, parents in attempt to wear their rambunctious children down with heat and saltwater waves. College students on break for summer, soaking up their last few weeks of freedom before classes began in August. Tourists attempting to snap the perfect shot of the lightened horizon.

Situated under (or near) a large white beach umbrella was a small and picturesque group of young adults.

Mandy Westlund had moved her bright pink towel out from under the umbrella. However, her attempt was not in soaking up sun rays. Her eyes had been set on a group of young men engaged in a hearty (and sweaty) game of sand volleyball. Shades settled down on the tip of her nose, she watched with a keen interest.

Alyse Bancroft sat under the umbrella, comfortably lounging in a padded beach chair. Her attention was undividedly ministered to her latest boyfriend. They were having a quiet and intimate conversation, one that resulted in faint giggles and sly glances. He sat in front of her, butt buried in the sand, hands interlocked with hers.

Blythe Osterfeld resided under the same umbrella. Her umbrella, technically. Although she had lived in Los Angeles for almost seven years, her skin and the sun did not get along. Even in the shade, she meticulously applied sunscreen to her face and shoulders. Rather, Chip Wolcott applied it for her. Currently, she sat in a chair very similar to that of Alyse’s, Chip standing behind her as he rubbed another coat of SPF 30 to her freckled shoulders.

Ruby Manning was in the sun. Stretched out and basking in the warmth of the day. On her stomach, book in hand. _Anna Karenina_ was coming along very well. Anna and Vronsky were expecting a child, although she was still married to Karenin. On the opposite, Kitty (Anna’s sister-in-law, of sorts, and Vronsky’s spurned lover) and Levin come closer to the idea of marriage. Most, though, on Levin’s end and not Kitty’s.

However much she tried to focus on the tied and tangled affairs of love and Imperial Russia, her attention never failed to return to Blythe and Chip. They were, loudly, disagreeing.

“C’mon, babe. It’s just one-.”

“Chip, I said _no_.”

Oh, that voice. Final. Absolute. There was no wavering with the hellishly obstinate tone of an annoyed Blythe. Unless your name was Chip.

“Baby, I don’t even want to go.” Chip pleaded.

Ruby raised an eyebrow but knew better than to turn her attention towards the sparring couple. She didn’t want to get dragged into that mess too early. 

“Then why are you?” Clipped, precise. She was not to be trifled with.

“It’s his birthday. I can’t not go.”

Blythe scoffed. “Chip, you aren’t obligated to attend all the birthday…fiascos of your fraternity brothers, because, newsflash, you _graduated_.”

From her spot several feet away, Mandy laughed quietly.

“We’re _pledge brothers_ , Blythe.”

Blythe snorted, an uncommon and unwelcome noise from her. “That doesn’t give it anymore meaning. I don’t speak to seventy-five percent of the girls I joined with.”

Mandy said something about Blythe being considered a colossal bitch by most of the girls that they’d shared letters with. Blythe made a small gasping noise but didn’t refute the claim.

“It’ll just be a lot more fun if you go with me.” Chip edged earnestly.

No one thought this was the truth. Blythe hadn’t enhanced the atmosphere of a party since their first semester of freshmen year. It was her allotted semester of nonsense. After that, she was as straight-laced as ever.

Blythe, though not swayed by his dishonest endeavor, was encouraged by the sweet notion. “Fine.” She groaned. “But,” something menacing laced her voice, “only if the girls go with me. All of them.”

At once, Ruby snapped her book shut. Chip Wolcott worked hard, but Blythe Osterfeld worked harder. There was no way all three of them would agree to go.

“Mandy, wanna go to a Hills house party tonight?” Chip asked sweetly.

Mandy forced her attention away from her shirtless band of volleyball players. She pushed up her sunglasses. “What for?”

“Weimer’s birthday.”

Her mouth, glossed over with something tinted pink, fell open. Russ Weimer, the object of her affection their entire first year of college. Chip’s undeniably hot roommate at the Phi Lambda Eta house. Chip and Russ had been two years ahead of them.

“Y-Yeah!” Mandy’s grin wobbled.

Chip shot his girlfriend a satisfactory smile. Mandy was a no-contest subject. Weimer included or not.

“Alyse, you up?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Which left…

“Ruby?”

She lifted her gaze from the cover of her book. She was on the receiving end of two very different, yet expectant looks. Chip’s face was wrought with earnest. He really did think the party would be better if Blythe attended alongside him. Blythe, however, detested any party that had anything remotely to do with Chip’s fraternity brothers. As far as she was concerned, he was the only civilized male that had left the organization. Ruby was going to be her saving grace.

“I…sorry.” Ruby said to Chip. “I’ve got to work.” It was a lie, bold-faced and cold. The store was closed until tomorrow.

Blythe let the tiniest smile befall her face. Chip frowned.

“You work at a bookstore. It won’t be open all night.” He reminded her.

“Yeah, you close at like six.” Mandy offered.

Blythe’s eyes narrowed. “Chip, honey, you know Ruby and Fresno don’t get along.

Instinctively, Ruby’s face came together in disgust. That was fact. Ruby Manning and Calvin “Fresno” Fletcher did not get along.

“He’s really matured.” Chip said defensively. “C’mon, I’ll keep him away from you if it’s that big a deal.”

Blythe rolled her eyes. She waved a hand. She was tired of arguing over the matter. The fight had been won. They were going.

Mandy had convinced the group of guys into letting her play volleyball with them. She was failing but doing so in a manner that painted her as helplessly cute. Ruby narrowed her eyes. Mandy wasn’t bad a volleyball. She had led their sorority intramural team to four championship victories.

Schemers. All her friends were.

Blythe was asleep, blissfully unconscious to whatever was befalling her poor future fiancé and Alyse’s own boyfriend. The two men had ventured out into the water in the hope of catching waves.

Ian, apparently, had some base understanding of surfing. Chip did not.

Alyse walked over and sat down beside Ruby. “You had flowers earlier.”

She nodded. “He’s here.” Her cheeks were warm. “He dropped them off at work this morning before I got there.”

“They were sunflowers.” Alyse noted slyly. _Your favorite_ , went unsaid. “Tomorrow, then?”

“Yep. Tomorrow.” Her stomach, right on track, fluttered.

Speaking of…

Her phone buzzed and she picked it up, dusting sand from the screen.

“That him?” Alyse prodded.

“Mhmm.”

Wordlessly, Alyse picked herself up and ventured back to her own spot under the umbrella.

 **I’m up. You were right. Rest was needed.** 1:28 p.m.

She smiled.

 **I usually am. Tomorrow at six, right?** 1:29 p.m.

His reply was instant.

 **On the nose. Want me to pick you up?** 1:30 p.m.

She almost dropped her phone. Did she want him to pick her up? That couldn’t be a bad thing.

“Ball!”

Her head snapped up. A sand-covered volleyball flopped down right in front of her. She jerked back, dropping her phone. One of Mandy’s volleyball boys jogged over.

“Sorry!” He apologized.

She leaned forward and picked up the ball. “It’s fine.” She glanced over at Mandy, who was waving her over. With a firm no, Ruby shook her head. She was _not_ playing volleyball. She tossed the guy the ball.

“Wanna play? It’d be nice to have another girl.”

“No, thanks.” She grabbed her book from beside her thigh. She waved it at him. “Broke my ankle one game and now I’m scarred. Prefer a simpler life now.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Good book.” He gestured. She stared back at him. “Seriously,” he bent down, “I read it in college. Where are you?”

She fiddled with the tassel on the bookmark and leaned back on her towel. “Karenin is motioning for a divorce.”

The boy’s eyes, a soft color of warm honey, crinkled when he smiled. He pushed his hair from his face. “I won’t spoil it for you. I’m notorious for ruining endings.” He stood back up. “Enjoy it.” And with that, he jogged back to his game.

_What the…?_

She shook her head, and the feeling, away. She was opening her book when she remembered her half-typed out text. “Damn.” She muttered and picked her phone back up. “Hmm.”

 **Yeah, work is fine!** 1:36 p.m.

Wait. Maybe home would be better…

 **Wait, no, at my apartment.** 1:36 p.m.

Then she could change at ease and not carry around a purse of clothes. But then again, he knew where worked…

 **But you know where I work so maybe that’s better.** 1:36 p.m.

She laid down and rested her head on the rolled part of her towel. If they were going to see each other again, he needed to know where she lived.

 **God I’m a dumbass I can give you my address.** 1:36 p.m.

She looked at her screen, finally satisfied. “Fuck, dumbass. He has to _have_ your address.”

She angrily typed it out before throwing her phone to the side. She needed to pull it together. Especially before tomorrow.

_Come on jump out at me_

_Come on bring everything_

_Is it too much to ask for something great_

She hated Calvin Fletcher. Fresno, as he liked to be called. It wasn’t a unique nickname. He’d been dubbed ‘Fresno’ by one of the older members upon joining the fraternity since he was from, you guessed it, Fresno.

Ruby couldn’t place the reason for her dislike of him. He’d never been outwardly rude to her, or anyone that she’d seen. In fact, he’d always been nice to her.

He was callous. He never put a lick of thought into anything before doing it. He was short-tempered and quick to throw a punch. It was jilting, to see someone who looked the way he did easily become so aggressive.

“Welcome, welcome!” Fresno stepped aside, arm extended. “My man!” He gripped Chip’s shoulder.

“Hey, dude. Thanks for having us.” Chip grinned.

Blythe breezed right past their host, barely giving him a second look. Or a first. Fresno was not very high on her list. Then again, it was a list that contained practically only four people.

“Nice to see you too, Osterfeld.” Fresno said cordially.

“Mhmm. Gin?”

“Kitchen. Got the works.” His eyes settled on Ruby and she instantly regretted getting in the Uber. “Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace my humble abode.”

He all but pulled her towards him and slung his arm around her shoulder. She scoffed. “I’d hardly call any place you lived in ‘humble’, Calv.” She stepped away from him.

He smiled. That was the kicker with him, he was handsome. Tall, with dusty blond hair that on occasion fell in his eyes. Tan skin from hours spent in the sun. Brown eyes so dark they seemed black. But dear God, his personality ruined it.

“Missed you, you know? Still drink tequila?”

“I have a bad feeling about what you’ll say if I say yes.”

He adjusted the puka shell necklace looped around his neck. “I make a mean tequila sunrise. Remembered you like those.”

From across the room, Alyse and Mandy both gave her enthusiastic nods paired with a thumbs up. She sighed and found herself relenting. A few drinks were going to be the only way she survived the night. “Lead the way.”

For a house full of grown adults, it seemed very few of them had outgrown the frat party scene. She’d had to watch in lacking interest as they made Russ do a twenty-seven minute keg stand. One for each year he had been alive.

“This sucks.” Blythe muttered. For the eightieth time. She was making sure it was known that she wasn’t having a good time.

Chip rubbed her back affectionately. “We’ll leave soon.

Her eyes narrowed. “How soon?”

“Soon.” Until the time came, he promised her another drink. He snatched her cup from her hand and disappeared.

Blythe shook her head. Ruby nudged her, motioning to their mutual friend having the best time. Mandy was dancing wildly, arms up, hips sashaying. “At least someone’s having a good time.” Blythe said.

“Ladies.” Per party promise, Russ Weimer stood in front of them. A god among men according to Mandy. He was handsome, Ruby had to admit. Not her type, but handsome. “Thanks for coming. And for letting Chip come.”

“I’m not his keeper.”

“Sure.” He said slowly. He looked down at Ruby. “Manning, good to see ya.”

She clapped him on the shoulder. “Happy birthday, Weimer. Make it count.”

“Oh, I intend to. I’m gonna get married this year.”

Both she and Blythe raised their eyebrows. Neither of them had ever known him to have a girlfriend, serious or not. “Hell must be freezing over.” Blythe quipped.

“I’m ready to settle.” He half-turned, eyeing the room in manner that suggested he planned on meeting his wife at his own birthday party. “Westlund still single?”

Ruby almost spit out her drink. There was _no_ way. Not after so many years. Russ patted her back.

“For you? Always.” Blythe blew air out her nose. “I bet she’d be willing to give you a little birthday treat if you say hi to her.”

Ruby elbowed her sharply.

“On that note,” Russ whistled, “I’ll see you too later.” He spun on his heel and left them.

“You know I’m right.” Blythe muttered.

The party was, thankfully, dying down. It was midnight and several people had already dipped out. The kitchen was her current hideout. From her safe spot sitting on top of the island, she could see back into the hall and up into the living room. She had absolutely no clue where any of her friends where.

She sighed, kicking her legs in a slow pattern. The heels of her feet bumped against the island, small _thuds_ lost in the noise of conversation and music.

“And that’s when I decided I wanted to go into business.”

She blinked, refocusing her gaze on the guy in front of her. She couldn’t remember his name or if he’d ever said it in the first place. “Fascinating.” She murmured.

“You’d rather be anywhere else than this party, right?” He deadpanned.

She laughed and then nodded. The hairs on the back of her neck raised to attention.

Someone was watching her.

She looked around the room, eyes settling on a guy across the room.

 _Holy fuck_ , her brain screamed.

Handsome. Beautiful. Dark brown curls, clean-shaven. A hell of a smile. Paired with the dark leather jacket, he was sex on legs. 

Not to mention a world-famous rock god. What the hell was Harry Styles doing at a party in Beverly Hills?

Derry was going to fucking lose her shit.

She smiled at him, soft, close-mouthed. That probably wasn’t even a good smile, but it was natural habit.

“Ruby.”

_Damn it._

Her head whipped around. Fucking Fresno. His tacky Hawaiian shirt was half-button, revealing short curls of blond chest hair. So, no one was going to tell him he looked like the California version of a young Danny DeVito? Ouch.

“What is it?” Her words left a little harsher than she’d intended. Her former guest bid her goodbye, leaving her alone with the surf god himself. She didn’t think he’d ever actually caught a wave.

“Westlund’s upstairs suffering a major episode. Started freaking out about Weimer or something, crying and shit. And then she started puking her guts up.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded.

“Fucking hell.” She slid off the countertop. She shoved her near-empty cup in his hand. “Jeez, Cal, and you left her alone?”

He stared back at her. He blinked innocently. “What was I supposed to do? She’s just throwing up?”

She rolled her eyes and shoved past him. God, he was such a dumbass. She swerved between people before reaching the stairs. She took two at a time, her chest hammering.

She really was out of shape. Probably needed to hit the gym more than just the first week of January every year.

The upstairs of the house was sparse as far as guests went. Most had stayed downstairs. She heard retching noises coming from behind one of the doors. She pushed it open.

Alyse was standing behind Mandy, who was on her knees in front of the toilet. Alyse had Mandy’s hair carefully in her grasp. Indeed, Mandy’s face was red and streaked with tears.

“What happened?” Ruby walked in and kicked the door shut.

Alyse shrugged.

“He-He-.” Mandy hiccuped. Ruby hoisted herself on the sink. “Weimer.” She nodded encouragingly, telling her to go on. “He asked me out!”

“And you’re crying because…?”

“Blythe made some comment about him only wanting me for sex.”

Ah, there it was. A Blythe joke gone wrong. Her sense of humor was too dry for Mandy to realize the different between an insult and a joke.

“She didn’t mean it.” Alyse promised her. “You know she can’t make a joke to save her life.”

“You think?” Mandy muttered, hiccupping again. Alyse dropped her hair and she stood up. Ruby scooted over while she wiped her face off. “You think she’s right, though? About Russ?”

“No.” Ruby and Alyse said simultaneously.

Mandy smiled at them through the mirror.

There was a sharp knock on the door. It opened and Blythe peeked her head in. “Heard you were in here.” She made eye contact with Mandy. “Shit, Westlund. I was _kidding_.”

“I know. It’s cool.” Mandy assured her.

Blythe rolled her eyes. “Can we like, get out of this bathroom? Smells like Mandy’s throat.” Mandy flipped her off and the four of them left the small bathroom. “Ugh, I’m so ready to leave. This place sucks.”

Alyse flung her arm around Mandy’s shoulders as they went downstairs and rejoined the party. Blythe walked next to Alyse and Ruby found herself on Mandy’s other side. Fresno was still in the kitchen, talking to some girl wearing a red glitter mini dress.

Blythe separated herself from them and marched up to him. “Your party sucks ass, Calvin.” She said snidely.

“From what I heard, so do you, Osterfeld.” He snickered.

At her side, Blythe’s hand twitched. Her mouth puckered and she reached out, shoving him carelessly. “Grow up.” She turned away from him and back to the other three. “I’ll grab Chip and we can Uber back to mine.” She told them.

“No!” Mandy objected. “I wanna stay.” The other three looked between themselves. “Please. I can still have a good time.”

Blythe was ready to leave. More than ready. And she knew Alyse had work in the morning. Ruby looped her am through Mandy’s. “You guys can go.” She told Alyse and Blythe. “I don’t care to stay.”

“Thank God.” Blythe breathed. “Let’s get the hell out of here before I catch a disease.” She grabbed Alyse by the wrist and practically dragged her from the kitchen.

Mandy swiveled, engulfing her in a hug. “Thanks for staying with me.”

Ruby hugged her back. “Anytime.” Her eyes lifted and found the gaze of one famous rock star. He was watching her, a half-amused expression on his face. Maybe staying had been her best idea yet, she decided with a smile.

The only way to properly survive a house party that had edged into the early hours of the morning was with copious amounts of alcohol. She had long ditched the tequila, deathly afraid of having to throw it all up the next morning. Instead, she’d helped herself to the twelve-pack of hard ales Fresno had hidden in his fridge. It was a fancy kind, made with sweet fruit to mask the ale taste. He had decent taste. 

The party had died down a significant amount, very few people remaining in the house. The ones left were congregated in the living room. She was sure Fresno had actually gone to bed. No one was really listening to the music anymore at that point so she’d taken it upon herself to relax the environment. What had been eardrum deafening rap was switched to the calming playlist she used at the store.

Mandy was the only person dancing. Badly, at that. Ruby smiled, shaking her head. Still in attendance was one rock star. Fueled with an obscene amount of confidence from hours of consuming alcohol, Ruby crossed the living room and saddled herself by his side. He didn’t notice her, eyes focused on the ceiling.

_Here goes nothing._

“Never seen you here before.” She turned her head quickly, delegating her attention back to Mandy. Better not lose her. The neck of the bottle was wedged firmly between her index and middle fingers. It was grown warm with time. Her denim jacket, a little too big, slipped down her shoulder.

“Not from ‘round here.”

Something about his voice sparked in her head. It sounded familiar. She chalked that to probably having heard an interview.

She smiled at him, soft and sweet. “Clearly.” She mused. “What brings you to L.A.?”

He shrugged casually. “Work.” He paused, looking back at her. His brows knitted together. “You know who I am…?”

Most people knew the name Harry Styles. One Direction. Solo singer. Derry Simmons lived and breathed his name.

She reached back and placed her bottle on the table against the wall. “I was trying to play a game.” She told him coyly. “I didn’t figure you came to a dumb Beverly Hills house party for the publicity.”

He smiled back at her. His hand lifted and he pushed back a single curl from his face. Rings adorned his fingers.

Yeah, hot as hell.

“Thanks.” He said in a quiet fashion. “What’re you doing here?”

With her thumb, she gestured to Mandy. The brunette was no longer dancing. Russ had calmed her down and given her another drink. Water, it seemed, from the actual kitchen glass and not a plastic cup. “So, how’d you find out about this?”

A guy walked up to them. Wavy long hair, slight facial beard. He wrapped his arm around his shoulder. “Little birdie named Raf fills me in on this stuff.”

Who the hell was Raf? She’d literally never heard the name before. “Right.” She said slowly. Unsure, she smiled again. “I’m R-.”

Someone knocked into her. Mandy. Her cup fell to the floor. It bounced on Ruby’s foot, preventing the glass from shattering on impact.

“Damn it. Fourth time tonight.” Mandy muttered. Her voice was slow and slurred. She was done for the night.

Ruby cocked an eyebrow. “Time for you to go home, then. You can sleep at my place.” Mandy shook her head and said she wasn’t ready to go yet. Ruby grabbed her wrist as she backed away.

“No, I don’t wanna go, R-.” The word died in her throat, replaced by a small choking noise. Ruby knew that noise all too well.

Mandy doubled over, mouth falling open. She made a retching noise and threw up. Her vomit went all over the shoes of Harry Styles’ friend.

“Oh, God.” Ruby groaned.

His friend looked back at her, eyes wide.

“Sorry.” Mandy mumbled.

Time to go. Definitely time to go. Ruby wound her arm around Mandy’s waist. Mandy’s head fell on her shoulder. “I’d better get her home.” She said to the two guys. She frowned at his friend. “Club soda should do the trick.” She motioned to his shoes. “If not, there’s a good dry cleaner on Mountain Park. Leave the bill for Mandy Westlund, she’d be happy to pay for it.”

She tightened her grip on her friend and headed for the door.

“You so owe me.” She muttered.

_The script was written and I could not change a thing_

_I want to rip it all to shreds and start again_

_One day I’ll come into your world and get it right_

_I’ll say we’re better off together here tonight_

Her head was busting. Jackhammer to the skull busting. Once again, Mandy was blissfully asleep in her bed while she was scurrying around the apartment trying to leave for work. Ruby took very little comfort in knowing Mandy would wake feeling way worse.

She was on her second cup of coffee and had already popped three extra strength Tylenol. The blistering hangover added to the fact that in a few hours, she was going to finally come face-to-face with her pen pal was going to make for a long day.

She scribbled a note onto the little notepad on the counter:

**_Coffee’s made. Frozen waffles in the freezer if you want them. Take some Tylenol. -Ruby_ **

She grabbed her purse and was out the door.

“Do you guys have the newest Stephen King piece?”

Ruby slid off the stool, hands braced on the edge of the counter. “Yeah, it should be over with the other new releases.”

She led the customer back to the small section of the store dedicated to the newest released books. She vividly remembered putting the miniscule amount of new Stephen King books on the display. One standing up on a stack of about fourteen others. And yet, they were nowhere to be found. “Weird.” She mumbled.

It had only been a few days since she’d put them out. The store surely hadn’t generated that much foot traffic for all of them to be sold.

“Sold out already?” He asked.

She bit down on the inside of her bottom lip. There was no way. “Uh, I’m not sure. My coworker may have moved them, let me give her a call real fast. If you don’t mind waiting…?”

“Go ahead.”

She half-jogged back to the counter and picked up her phone, quickly finding Derry’s number and pressing **call**.

“It’s too early to be awake.” Derry’s words were muffled.

Ruby glanced at the clock. It was eleven in the morning. Lazy. “It’s almost noon.” She pointed out. “Anyway, did you move the Stephen King display?”

Derry was silent for a few seconds. “Oh, yeah! I put it back with the scary ones. Thought it fit better.”

Ruby pulled on the skin of her cheek. “Right. Okay. See you later.”

Derry didn’t say goodbye before hanging up her phone. Ruby slipped her own into her back pocket. “Sorry about that. She moved them. They’re right back here.” She took him to the back of the store where the horror and thriller sections were housed. Sure enough, the new Stephen King display was right there.

“Thanks.” The customer said, immediately picking up the book and flipping through it.

“No problem.”

_I want you here with me_

_Like how I pictured it_

_So I don’t have to keep imagining_

It was the slowest day of her life. Few customers trickled in and out of the store. Derry called in, unsurprisingly. Ruby wanted to tell her so badly about meeting Harry Styles at the party the night before, but that was a conversation that needed to be in person. Just in case she had to rush Derry to the ER for passing out.

Her only solace of it being quiet was getting to write. Derry’s absence and the slowness of customer traffic meant she would make substantial headway on her book.

She dug both notebooks from her bag. One contained all the basic pieces needed for the book. Characters, plot points, scenes half-made in her head. The other contained the words. It was the actual book. Or what would eventually be so.

Both were composition journals filled with thick, unlined paper. Perfect for fountain pens. When writing, she liked to utilize the ones that were comprised of pre-filled ink cartridges. Much less messy.

She flipped open the blue-specked notebook, taking a second to find where she’d last left off.

It was the worst part to write. The meet-cute. Girl meets guy, the whole shebang. There were too many technicalities she hadn’t yet worked out.

Where do they meet? There were too many options. Bumping into each other in public; grocery store, coffee shop, flower shop. Introduced by mutual friends; party, work event, family function. Running into each other at the park. Their dogs get tangled in one another leashes.

Would it be love at first sight? They’d meet, eyes locked on one another. Hearts racing, skin growing warm. They’d be at a loss of words before one of them would stumble on their name.

No, she couldn’t write that. She didn’t even believe in love at first sight.

That settled that, but nothing else.

She leaned forward, propping her arm up on the counter and resting her head in her open palm. She ticked the top of her pen against her jaw, tongue lodged between her teeth.

It was nearly four. Two hours.

She swallowed and dropped her pen. She took out her phone and sent him a quick text.

 **Hope you’re hungry!** 3:47 p.m.

She herself was starving. The half-heated bagel she’d shoved down her throat that morning hadn’t much helped.

“Okay. Just write a sentence.” She told herself. “One sentence and then you’re going home.”

One sentence. Just one.

_Come on jump out at me_

_Come on bring everything_

_Is it too much to ask for something great_

One sentence turned into two. Which melted into ten. Which became a whole page. Which turned into two pages. Her glasses had fallen down and she couldn’t be bothered to adjust them. Little pieces of hair were tickling her face.

Her phone buzzed. Harry, a text.

 **Starving. Just got done with work. See you soon.** 4:10 p.m.

_4:10?_

“Fuck!” She hissed. She dropped her phone on the counter. “Wait, calm down.” She told herself. She forced out a few deep breaths. She had an hour and fifty minutes. Home wasn’t that far away. And she didn’t look too bad.

Expect for the ink smears all over her arm.

“Damn it.” She groaned. She examined the pen. It didn’t look broken…

There was a large smear on her forearm and several specks on her hand. There was a faint black inked smudge in the middle of her tattoo on her wrist wrist. She dabbed her index finger on her tongue and swiped it across the mark until it faded.

“Oh, hell.” She trained her eyes back on the notebook. She’d read over the last few pages to make sure everything made sense and then, she’d close up.

Her eyes scanned over the words. Her brain tried to make sense of it all, tried to make sure it all tied up together. It wasn’t _bad_. It wasn’t perfect, but then again, was any first draft? It just had to read good enough for someone to want it.

Her pen knocked against the hollow of her cheek.

 _Good enough for me,_ she thought.

If anything, she could just scratch it all out later and start fresh.

The door swung open, the bell dinged.

_You’ve got to be kidding._

She didn’t look up. She really didn’t want to see the person who was ruining her day. “Welcome to Jupiter House.” She tried to sound enthused for a customer. “Coffee’s free. Books aren’t.”

She was met with a still quietness. It wasn’t entirely uncommon. A lot of people came in and wanted to browse in silence.

Ruby’s eyes lifted and she adjusted her glasses. Her gaze shifted, landing on the man standing in front of the door.

_No. Fucking. Way._

Twice in twenty-four hours? How was that possible?

Ruby Manning believed in coincidences. She really did. But fate was a whole other thing.

One of them was at work in her life. It had been a coincidence, meeting Harry Styles at a house party in the Hills. It was not a coincidence that he had just walked into the bookstore where she worked.

He was staring at her, eyes lit with something brighter than amusement. Did he…? Did he remember her? Even if he did, it was probably only because Mandy had puked all over his friends’ shoes.

“You.” He said duly.

“You.” She breathed. “Harry Styles, I mean.” She amended. “We meet again.”

“I-uh-.”

She slid off the stool. Outside, she heard the rush of people and the sound of cameras. People yelling his name. He drew away as she neared him, eyes still focused on her. Her cheeks warmed as she slid by him and flipped the sign on the door to **Sorry, We’re Closed!**

“You can hide out here for a while.” She told him.

“Thanks.” His tongue darted out and licked over his bottom lip. “I’m, um, I’m Harry.”

She laughed quietly, nodding her head. “Yeah. I know. We met last night.”

His mouth opened and then closed. “No, no. I’m _Harry_.” He paused and the space between them filled with tense silence. There was a sheen of sweat slicked on his skin. His eyes were wide and scouring over the room. They were green, she realized. A light green flecked with hazel.

“Are you okay?” She asked tentatively.

His gaze snapped back to her. “I know about your dog.” He said abruptly.

“ _My dog_?” Never in her life had she had a dog. Her mother was a very anti-pets person. She and Grant hadn’t even been allowed to get goldfish. “I don’t have a dog.” She said slowly, taking a step back. Was he strung out? He was coherent enough to remember meeting her the night before. “Are you on something…? I can call someone. My friend is a nurse.”

Surely Alyse would know what to do.

“No, not a real dog.” He shook his head. “Have you ever had a dog?” The question was asked in a thoughtful manner, which only freaked her out more. “No, don’t answer that.” He said quickly. “Damn it.”

She took another careful step backwards. The dude needed help, rock star or not. Her phone was still on the counter.

“Detective Woof.” The two words struck her. “That’s it, right? Your stuffed dog.”

Her eyes widened. How did he know that? The stuffed animal was in a box at the top of her closet, safe from prying eyes. The only person who knew she still had him was-.

“ _Oh, my God._ ” She whispered. “You’re-?”

“I am.” He was grinning, wild and excited.

“Holy fuckin’ shit.” She breathed. Harry Styles was her pen pal? “Holy shit!”

She jolted forward and threw her arms around him. Sweat and all, he smelled _good_.

Immediately, he hugged her back. Thick arms around her midsection. The ends of his curls tickled her face. The tips of his fingers pressed into her back.

“I can’t believe it’s you.”

Derry was going to die.

_I want you here with me_

_Like how I pictured it_

_Is it too much to ask for something great_

Normally, under normal people, regular life circumstances, she would have been embarrassed to have him in her apartment. But these were not regular life circumstances.

“Just let me change and we can go.” She kicked the door shut. The lock chain rattled. “Do you need to go back and change, too?”

The toaster was sitting on the counter, cord strewn over the top. A single coffee cup was in the sink. On the counter, the bundle of sunflowers sat in a collectible movie theater cup full of water.

His hand skirted over one of the petals. “ _Twilight_?” He asked about the cup.

She smiled uneasily. “I forgot to buy a vase. Do you need to change?” She asked again.

“Probably. My clothes aren’t exactly…lowkey.”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I think I have some of Grant’s clothes from his last visit…if you don’t wanna go back to your hotel…?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Cool.”

He waited in the living room as she went into her bedroom. Mandy had, at least, made the bed back up. She kept a drawer in her closet of Grant’s clothes. He didn’t have a lot, but enough for an outfit. They looked to be about the same size. Definitely in shirt. Grant’s pants would probably be a little tight on him. She pulled out a t-shirt of a band her brother listened to and an old pair of his jeans.

“These should fit, I think!” She ventured back out into the living room.

He was toying with the blanket half-thrown over the couch. “Did you sleep on the couch?” He asked absently.

She handed the clothes over to him. “Uh, yeah. Mandy stayed over and I let her have the bed.” He mentioned that from what he’d seen, the bed looked plenty big enough. “Didn’t want to get thrown up on.” Speaking of… “How’re your friend’s shoes?”

“Huh?” He blinked. “Oh. Mitch. Club soda did it.”

“Good.”

A freakish, tense silence encompassed them. She looked away and tried to forget about the hammering in her chest. She’d never imagined that their space and conversation would be so awkward.

“Bathroom is just over there.” She motioned to the door off the side of the kitchen. “I’m gonna…yeah.” She spun around to head back to her room.

His hand wrapped around her wrist. “Ruby.” His rings were cold against her skin. He tugged gently, turning her to face him. “I’m glad it’s you.” He said softly.

“…Really?”

“Yeah.” He breathed out, a slight smile on his face. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

In quick time, the awkwardness faded. The early evening sun was cool and much more welcoming that it had been earlier.

“So, I was thinking…” She tested slowly.

“About?”

“Making you wait for your surprise.” She said with a mad grin. “Can’t give you the best of Los Angeles all at once.”

“You’re cruel.”

“It’s one of my better qualities.” He asked about the book. Ooh, the book. “Really well. I knocked out a couple pages today at work. I’ve been inspired.” She refrained from mentioning that he was said inspiration. And that the scene she’d been so blocked on had sprung into words, based on how she had imagined their first meeting.

“Look at you. Soon enough, you’ll be a published author and people will be asking for your autograph.”

She raised an eyebrow. He was one to talk. People had been asking for his name for years. “You’ll have to teach me to give the perfect autograph. I’m sure you’ve got it down by now.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Hardly. You may have to teach me when it’s all said and done.”

They drew to a stop at the crosswalk. The restaurant, her favorite in the city, was just a few streets away. “Why didn’t you tell me who you really were?” She asked.

“I-.”

The sign rang out and blinked as traffic drew to a stop. The crowd of people around them moved forward. She grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him across the crosswalk.

“You what?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “I didn’t want you to get hung up on Harry Styles. I just…I wanted you to know _me_.”

She looked straight forward and fought off a frown. Did he think she was going to care about that? Really, though, they’d corresponded for fourteen years but you never really knew someone until you met in person. Even then, it was difficult to really know someone. Who was to say, for him, that she wasn’t some vapid person who’d get off on telling the whole world Harry Styles was her pen pal? With that, his secret became easily understandable.

“Well, for the record,” they rounded a corner, “I like both Harry Styles and _Harry_.” She spotted the green awning of the restaurant at the end of the strip. “Ooh, it’s just up here!” She nudged his shoulder. “C’mon!”

_You’re all I want_

_So much it’s hurting_

_You’re all I want_

_So much it’s hurting_

“So, what’d you think?” She eyed him intensely. He’d ordered a simple bowl of ramen with a half sliced boiled egg on top. He’d taken several slow bites. “Well?” She prodded again.

“It’s…good.”

“Just _good_?”

“Really good.”

She sat back, satisfied. Her own bowl was laden with mushrooms, peppers, and a sliver of egg. The contents were mixed in with the noodles. “You had me worried.” She fake-wiped sweat from her forehead.

“I told you I liked ramen.”

“Could’ve been sparing my feelings.” She noted.

“Could’ve.” He agreed. “But I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“It’s appreciated.”

They ate in a comfortable silence.

“So,” he slid his empty bowl to the side, “boyfriend?”

She choked on a noodle. She coughed a few times and took a long drink of her water. He asked if she was okay and she said she would live. “Don’t have the time.” She answered his boyfriend question. “You?”

“No boyfriends here.” He grinned back at her.

She rolled her eyes. “Okay. Girlfriend?”

He replied with her given answer, “Don’t have the time.”

He’d asked about a boyfriend. That was a normal question, right? Especially considering he knew about her date with Max. Whom she had never mentioned again. She hadn’t even called him back. She felt bad but that was the sad truth of life when her heart was on hold.


	5. Live While We're Young-Harry// July 17

_Hey girl, I’m waiting on ya, I’m waiting on ya_

_Come on and let me sneak you out_

_And have a celebration, a celebration_

_The music up, the windows down_

His brain felt as if it had been disconnected from the entire system and then hot-wired back together. Upon meeting her, knowing her, everything changed.

His thoughts were assuaged, the ones which had been consumed of her rejection. Worries were placated. For the first time in a long time, he was completely at ease. Which was why he was currently on the phone with his mother.

Anne had a million and seven questions about Ruby Manning. None of which she gave him time to answer.

“What’s she like? Is she tall? Short? Is she funny? What did the two of you do? Did you eat? Where did you go? How did she react when she found out who you were? Is she pretty?”

Naturally, her last question left him time to answer. It was a question that he wasn’t sure which answer to give.

It was easier to say yes, she was pretty. But that answer didn’t due her justice. The word _pretty_ didn’t due her justice. She was…beautiful. Not just in her physical appearance. In the short time they’d spent together, he’d seen a side of her that he had never even considered to exist. Caring and kind-hearted. Loyal, near to a fault, when it came to her friends. Funny, in an unusual manner. And she didn’t think his jokes were funnier in person. That, he knew, had been a long shot on his part.

“Yeah, Mum,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead, “she’s pretty.” Best to cover bases with her in the simplest way possible.

“Is she everything you thought she would be?”

“And more.” He admitted.

“Oh, Harry!”

He winced at the volume of her reaction. “Mum, it’s not- it isn’t like that.” He said quickly. “We’re friends. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“When are you seeing each other again?”

“Couple hours. I’ve got studio time and them I’m picking her up from work.”

“Do you have something planned or are you just hanging out?”

“I’m gonna take her down to the Boardwalk on Venice Beach. Should be fun, they’ve got loads to do.”

“Is it…you know, a date?”

“No, Mum. It’s not a date. We’re friends, I told you.”

“For some reason, I don’t believe that.”

Harry’s fingers twitched. Every so often, the pads of his fingers skimmed over his corduroy-clad knee. His bottom lip rolled between his teeth and his eyes flitted over the other people in the recording lounge.

Jeff was the only one standing. His face was pulled in tight concentration. “You’re writing again.” He glanced up from the paper.

He fidgeted, looking away from his managed. “Seems so.”

“This is good, Haz. It’s really good.” Jeff said softly.

“Thanks.”

“For the new album?” Alex held the paper delicately. Harry nodded. “Better show us, then.”

Right.

He got up from his spot near the door into the booth.

“You think there’s someone…?” Adam leaned towards Mitch.

“Be stupid not to.”

Harry shook his head. Sure, maybe the song had been inspired by Ruby. And maybe it was actually about her. But that didn’t mean anything. A song was a song. No matter who it was about. Or if he was probably in love with the girl the song was about.

He pushed open the door to the recording booth. All the equipment was set up for the band, but they were sitting in the lounge, waiting for him. He positioned himself behind the microphone and placed the headphones over his ears.

There was a click. The green light came on over the window and Jeff gave him a thumbs-up.

His hand curled around the microphone stand. There was the sick feeling settled into the bottom of his stomach, always present the first time he performed a new song in front of his band and manager. There was a way he had it all set out in his head. The way the words were supposed to flow and sound, how the music should accompany. But there was always the rational fear that they wouldn’t like it. Ultimately, the decision was his. It was his song, his music, but the idea of rejection was more than enough to make him sick.

“ _Nine in the morning/ the man drops his kids off at school/ and he’s thinking of you/ like all of us do/ sends his assistant for coffee in the afternoon/ around 1:32/ like he knows what to do/ she/ she lives in daydreams with me/ she’s the first one that I see/ and I don’t know why/ I don’t know who she is/ he takes a boat out/ imagines just sailing away/ and not telling his mates/ he wouldn’t know what to say/ she/ she lives in daydreams with me/ she’s the first one that I see/ and I don’t know why/ I don’t know who she is/ she/ she’s the first one that I see/ she lives in daydreams with me/ and I don’t know why/ I don’t know where she is/ lives for the memory/ a woman who’s just in his head/ and she sleeps in his bed/ while he plays pretend/ so pretend/ she/ she lives in daydreams with me/ she’s the first one that I see/ and I don’t know why/ I don’t know who she is/ she/ she’s the first one that I see/ she lives in daydreams with me/ and I don’t know why/ I don’t know where she is._ ”

There were certain parts where repetition was needed on words, where backup was needed. It would sound loads better accompanied by music.

He took the headphones off, laying them around his neck. The others were looking at him through the window into the booth. Jeff was half-turned, saying something to them that Harry couldn’t make out.

He turned back to Harry. The speaker crackled. “Single track or album release?”

“Album.” Harry answered.

Jeff nodded. “You did good, Haz.” Not a _perfect,_ or a _fantastic_. It was the best Jeff could manage as a compliment without seeming too sappy.

_Yeah, we’ll be doing what we do_

_Just pretending that we’re cool and we know it too_

_Yeah, we’ll keep doing what we do_

_Just pretending that we’re cool, so tonight_

The bell above the door into Jupiter House Bookseller was a welcome new addition to his life. Upon hearing it, he knew he was about to be met by the glorious being that was Ruby Manning.

For instance, by the time that the echo of the bell left his head on July 17, his eyes had found her. She was preoccupied with a book, standing in front of the self-help section. A small piece of her bottom lip was lodged under her top row of teeth. She had forgone the thin-wired, circular rimmed glasses that were never placed properly on her nose.

“Got a problem?” He announced his arrival.

She looked up from the book. “Not anymore.” She placed the book back on the shelf. “You’re early.”

He crossed the store and posted himself in front of the checkout counter. He spied her satchel bag in the floor. The spines of two composition journals stood rigid. Both were cracked, having been used, and often. 

“We finished early.”

Her hand fell on a book propped up on half-height shelf. The edge of her finger danced over the top of the book. “Can I hear it?”

“Hear what?”

The laugh that came from her was quiet, accompanied by the smallest shake of her head. “The song, silly. The one you spent the whole morning recording.”

“Oh, no. Absolutely not.”

She drew to a dead stop in front of him. The usual, playful light in her eyes hardened as she stared back at him. “It isn’t done?”

“Err, no.”

In truth, the song was not finished. They had yet to get the sound of the bass right. Something about it wasn’t fitting. Hopefully, the song would be done within a week.

“Oh.” The light didn’t return, but he was thankful that the cool steel of her gaze was gone. He had a feeling she was not very forgiving when angry. “So, where are we going?”

He smiled as she walked behind the counter. She locked up the register and picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. “It’s a surprise.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t like surprises.”

That he knew. She didn’t like surprises, gifts, gifts in the form of surprises, surprises in the form of gifts, scary movies, needles (or really anything to do with doctors), snakes, spiders, and geese.

“You’ll like this one. Promise.”

“Lead the way, rock star.”

_Let’s go crazy, crazy, crazy til we see the sun_

_I know we only met but let’s pretend it’s love_

_And never, never, never stop for anyone_

_Tonight let’s get some and live while we’re young_

True to the online information he’d read over, the Venice Beach Boardwalk was packed over with people. It was the height of busy season.

“Well?” He was gauging for a response. Any response. Good. Bad. Indifferent.

“Have you ever been here?” She asked.

“Not once. You?”

She was smiling, wide, ear to ear. “Nope.” The ‘p’ popped. “This is gonna be great. C’mon.” Her hand wrapped around his wrist and she pulled him into the madness.

The boardwalk was lined with businesses. Little pop-up shops, craft vendors, and food vendors. Performers strayed out in the middle of the crowd. Light, poppy music played through unseen speakers.

“Oh, look!” She pointed out. There was a man towering through the crowd, at least eight or nine feet tall with the stilts.

Her attention was consumed with the bright world around them. Eyes wide with amazement, mouth slightly hanging open in stupefied awe. Her arm was curled around his, hand tight on his bicep.

“Holy shit, check that girl out!” She tugged on him. Ahead near the left side, a girl in rolled jogging pants and a white cropped tank was performing an elaborate break-dance routine. Her movements were fluid, yet seemed robotic and mechanic at the same time. “That’s insane.” Ruby whispered.

“What do you want to do first?” He asked her, looking around. There was _so much_.

She hummed quietly, head swiveling around. Her eyes sparked and she grinned at him. “Do you believe in psychics?”

“Do I what?”

“Psychics! Fortune tellers, tarot cards, you know. They’re all over places like this. I think some of them are legit.”

“Do _you_ believe?”

She shrugged in a non-committal fashion. “I don’t not believe. Wanna check one out?” She didn’t bother waiting for an answer.

They weaved in and out of the crowd. She walked on her tiptoes, hopping up and down sporadically to see over people that blocked her view of vendors and shops. She’d abandoned his arm, instead assuming he was following right next to or behind her.

“Are you looking for a specific one?”

Her head bobbed up and down in immediate response. “Mandy came here a lot while we were in school. She swears up and down that this one lady is the real deal. Her name is Madame Verosky or Gerosky or something like that.”

He stopped, the name prickling some sense of familiarity. He looked over to the right and back to the left. “Madame Ceroski?”

“Yes! Madame Ceroski!”

He half-pointed to the little vendor station to the left. It was a decent-sized booth, rounded by dark purple curtains. The front ones were secured with bangles. An elderly woman sat behind the booth, dark curls held back by a navy scarf. Bracelets adorned her arms.

Ruby navigated through the crowd, him hot on her heels. “Madame Ceroski?”

The woman looked up from the set of cards laid out on the booth table. Her eyes were a striking shade of light brown. “My dears. Please, sit down.”

Ruby eagerly sat down in one of the two chairs. She motioned for him to take the other and he did. “My friend came to see you a couple years ago and she said you were legit.”

“In those words?”

“More or less.” Ruby replied. “Do you still do readings?”

“For a price.”

Ruby leaned back. There was a price poster situated at the top of the booth. She fished in her bag and produced a green bill with a ‘10’ in the corner. “Here.”

Madame Ceroski took the bill and placed it in a large glass jar. She swiped up the cards and shuffled them. She spread them out in front of them. “Choose three.”

Her eyebrows drew together, and her mouth puckered. After several moments of silent and deep contemplation, she pointed to the first card. Madame Ceroski pulled the card and flipped it over. They repeated the process with two more cards.

She placed the remaining cards to the side. Harry leaned forward.

Madame Ceroski pointed to the first card. It was a hand holding a single, large wooden stick. “The Ace of Wands. You have had a recent increase in your drive lately, have you not?” Ruby drew closer, nodding slowly. “The Ace of Wands reveals that you’ve recently taken the biggest step in what will change your life. This is going to be the beginning of something great for you.”

Ruby nudged him discreetly. “I’ve always wanted to be a writer.” She told the woman. “I just started working on a new book. I think it’s gonna be The Book, you know?”

The woman nodded sagely. “And here,” she pointed to the next card, a woman standing with a lion, “Strength.” She tapped the card twice. “Your strength will soon be put to the ultimate test. Your will power and sense of self will be bent, and it will be up to you to ensure it does not break.”

Now, what did that even mean?

He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for her to explain the last card. Two people standing under a lion crest, both holding golden chalices. “Two of Cups?” Ruby questioned.

The woman seemed mildly impressed. “Indeed. The unification of souls. The card reveals that the time will come, and soon, when you should speak the words of your heart. The greatest test is that of which you have both everything to gain and everything to lose. There’s a cosmic tie of your soul to another, a strong bond to be carefully cultivated over time.”

Ruby was frowning. “Right.” Her voice was suddenly dull. “Uh, thanks.” She got up from her seat. She averted her eyes away from the booth.

He looked between her and the woman. Ruby stalked off, her fingernails grazing against the side of her arm in harsh lines. He mouthed an apology to Madame Ceroski and ran after her.

When he caught up to her, she was listening to a street musician singing a cover of an Adele song. “Hey, everything okay?”

“Do you believe in that stuff?” She whirled around to face him. “The tarot readings.”

“I don’t know. Like you said, I haven’t really been given a reason _not_ to believe in it.”

Thoughtfully, she nodded. Her eyes seemed far away, as if her mind was occupied by something completely different. “Yeah, right.” She murmured.

They stood in their own piece of quietness. The guy covering the song was good and had the sense to deepen the higher notes he knew he didn’t have the range to reach. For that, Harry dropped a couple American dollars in the hat.

“Have you ever had a funnel cake?” She asked suddenly.

“’Fraid not.”

Her eyes widened. “Then why’re we just standing around like a couple dicks?”

The look on her face threw him back to Ramen on Greene. Her own funnel cake sat untouched in front of her. Her arms were crossed on the edge of the table and she was leaned forward with an inquisitive eagerness.

He tore off a small piece of the deep-fried dessert. It was topped in a thick layer of powdered sugar. The confection dusted his fingers, damp with oil. He dropped the morsel into his mouth.

It softened on his tongue and he chewed. It was sweet, a lot sweeter than anything he’d eaten before. Unhealthily delicious.

He tore off another piece and ate it.

“Ah, you like it!” She grinned.

“How could I not?” He asked after swallowing. “It’s…”

“Fantastic?” She supplied. He nodded in agreement with her choice of word. “I’ll turn you into a Los Angelean yet.”

“So, you’re originally from here, then?” He questioned.

She tore into her funnel cake, breaking it into medium-made, bite-sized pieces. “Uh, no. I’m from Carolina.”

Carolina. He tried to pull up a mental map of the States in his head. He knew there were two different Carolinas but couldn’t remember where they were in the country. Apparently, several tours in the United States wasn’t enough of a geography lesson for him.

“Which one?”

“South Carolina. Hilton Head.” He asked where the Carolinas were. The corner of her mouth quirked up. “East Coast.”

And they were on the West Coast. Her home was all the way across the country. “What brought you here?”

She had already eaten half her dessert. “Ah, can’t tell you that.” She admonished. At his protest, she half-smiled. “Can’t tell you all my secrets, H.”

_H?_

“Do you want to do something crazy?”

“Like what?” He asked.

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” She promised.

Which was how, fifteen minutes later, they wound up in front of a temporary tattoo shop. Yes, temporary. There were several temporary shops set up along the edges of the boardwalk. There were even some actual tattoo parlors. He had over thirty tattoos, very near forty even. She had…at least one.

“Want to?” Her eyes flicked between him and the shop. “Look, they’ll only last a couple weeks.” She pointed to the sign that read **semi-permanent** in the window.

“You think that’s what I’m worried about?” He laughed. “I’ve got loads more than you. You sure you want to do this? Even if it is semi-permanent.”

She shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re my best friend.”

“I am?”

“Of course. You know things about me no one else does. And you’re the only one I never get tired of talking to.”

He knew exactly how she felt. Socialization sometimes exhausted him. There were times he wanted to be left alone by the world and decompress from the high demand of his life. But it never failed that the one person he was okay talking to was her. She wasn’t like anyone else.

“You’re mine too.” He admitted. “Best friend, I mean.”

She shook her head slowly. “You’re just saying that because I said it.”

He slipped his hand around hers, taking a step closer to the tattoo shop. “Nah, I’m not.”

_Hey girl, it’s now or never, it’s now or never_

_Don’t over-think just let it go_

_And if we get together, yeah, get together_

_Don’t let the pictures leave your phone_

She poked the reddened spot on the inside of her elbow. “Looks so real.” She mumbled.

Indeed, they did. As his official welcoming into the City of Angels (he reminded her that he’d been in L.A. before, to which she said never with her), they decided on something wholly symbolic. A delicate outline of angel wings just above the crooks of their elbows. 

“Pretty, huh?”

“Very.” He agreed. She asked if he was having a good time. “’Course I am.”

“You’re not getting bored with me?”

She had to be joking. There was no way anyone could ever be bored with her. “Why are you asking?”

Her index finger traced over the temporary tattoo over and over. She kept her attention on her arm. “You know why.” She said softly.

“No, love, can’t say I do.” He replied honestly. He had waited fourteen years for this. To see her and spend real time with her. To know her in the real world and not on a piece of paper. Learn her quirks and mannerisms. How she took her coffee and tea, how she liked her eggs. Was she an early bird or a night owl? There were a million and four things he wanted to know. Finding out the real stuff, the deep things, wasn’t easy.

She didn’t talk about her parents very much. Her brother was mentioned in passing. She spoke more of her close friends and Derry. Her boss was present in conversation more than her own family.

Why was she afraid of needles and doctors? Why did she never seem to have a boyfriend (or girlfriend)? Did she feel the way he did?

She didn’t say anything in response, only started walking away. He followed. After a few minutes of moving through the crowd, they reached the part of the boardwalk that was sparsely occupied. She found a bench near a set of steps that led down to the beach and sat down. Wordlessly, she patted the spot next to her. He sat down and waited for her explanation.

“You’re famous.” She sighed. He reminded her that he was well aware of the fact. Her eyes narrowed. “Seriously, Harry. You were in a huge band for like ten years.”

“Six!” He corrected.

Her following laugh was short-natured. “Sorry. Boy band member for _six_ years. And now you’re some kind of super successful solo artist and I’m-.”

_Perfect._

“An aspiring writer?” He offered.

She snorted. “Aspiring being the key word.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I’m not really anyone special, H. We’ve been friends for years and now that we’ve met, I could be literally any other girl you’ve met before. I just wanna make sure you don’t forget me when you leave.”

“Forget _you_?” He guffawed. She startled, jerking back. He grabbed onto her hand. Her skin was warm, soft, a little clammy. “Believe me, I’m never going to forget you.”

“Swear?”

He lifted his free hand and extended his pinky. She smiled, wrapping her own around it. “Swear.” He solidified the promise.

Their eyes locked on one another. The same feeling crashed over him, from when he’d first laid eyes on her at the party, when he’d realized who she was. Everything was aligned for him.

Her lips parted, just barely. A slight puff of wind blew through, the ends of her hair flowing off her shoulders. He caught a whiff of her shampoo. Strawberries.

This was it. The moment.

He leaned forward, just barely, so slow.

She was close, enough so that he could almost taste her chap stick.

The click of a camera, the flash of a photo being taken, distracted him. And her as well, apparently. She shifted, looking past him.

“I think we have company.” She murmured.

He turned his head. Several people had gathered, taking pictures on their cameras. What he noticed behind them was the issue. A few people scattered among the crowd with high-grade cameras. “Shit.” He muttered. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Paparazzi.” He got to his feet. “We should leave.”

“Are you sure?”

He said yes. “They’ll get pretty intrusive if we give them the chance.”

She got up from the bench. “C’mon, I know a place.”

“I found that a lot of beaches have these little coves.”

The damp sand squelched under his shoes. A slight mist blew off from the water, refreshing in the muggy evening heat. Ruby walked a little ahead of him. Her hair blew back in the breeze, leaving an ever-present scent of strawberries behind her.

There was no sign of the press in the immediate vicinity, but he knew better than to rule out their presence. After years in the spotlight, he knew they were never too far. He didn’t have a big problem with them, it came with the job. But there were times he wanted privacy. And his time with Ruby was most definitely part of that.

He didn’t want to subject her to that in any way. She was his secret to keep. The second the world found out about her, it would all crumble away.

“Ah, here.” She veered off to the right, away from the water. She was right. There was a little cove hidden off from wandering eyes. It was hidden by a thick curtain of dark green vines. She pushed the vines aside and motioned for him. He stepped inside and she followed.

It was cool in the small alcove. The area was closed on three sides by slick rock, smoothed down by time. The top wasn’t tall enough to permit standing. They sat in the sand, the only noise the lapping of the water outside.

“How’d you know about places like this?” He leaned against the wall.

She sat opposite of him. The alcove was small enough that even away from each other, their feet were touching. “There’s a lot on the beaches back home. Grant and I used to play Hide-and-Seek a lot when we were little and I just kinda stumbling onto one during a game.” She spoke with a slight smile on her face. The fondness of recalling a pleasant memory. “I always won after that. He still doesn’t know how.”

“Are the two of you really close?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “You know, the two of you were really my only friends growing up. I wasn’t ever good at the whole socialization thing until high school.”

“I find that really hard to believe.”

“It’s true!” She giggled quietly. “What about you?”

“I got by.” He said honestly. “Gemma and I are still close. I try to call her and Mum every couple days.”

He asked about her. How often did she talk to her parents? Over the years, he had collected hints that she was especially close with her father. The pearl oyster tattoo was a testament to that, he just didn’t know how deep the connection really went.

She stiffened, her shoulders squaring. “Every once in a while.” Her voice was thick. “I talk to Grant more than anyone. And that’s maybe once a week.”

He was growing more on the feeling that she didn’t like talking about her family. Something had happened there, something she wasn’t keen on sharing. He decided not to press the subject any further. She’d talk when she was ready.

“So,” he drawled, “are you going to tell me about the book or make me wait ‘til it’s published?”

Her eyes sparked. She launched into a winded explanation of her book. It didn’t yet have a name, but she had two main characters, Magdalena and Thaddeus. The book chronicled their love story. A series of brief meets and run-ins, chapters comprised of longing and yearning for one another. A tragic ending.

“Can I get a signed copy when you publish?” He asked.

“Only if I can have a signed copy of your album when it comes out.”

“Deal.” He reached out. She grabbed onto his hand and they shook on it. 

_Yeah, we’ll be doing what we do_

_Just pretending that we’re cool, so tonight_

The pad of his finger grazed over the imprint of angel wings over the bend of his elbow.

“When can we meet her?” Sarah asked as soon as the music cut off.

They were working on the recording of _She_. They were close to finishing it. The musical beat had finally been matched perfectly to how he imagined. Any hold back was on his shoulders. He kept messing up the lyrics. True to the words, he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

“Who?” Adam asked, letting his guitar hang around him.

“The girl, you dumbass.” Mitch rolled his eyes.

“What girl?” Adam inquired. “Oh, the one from the song.”

Harry sighed, letting go of the mic stand. “When do ya wanna?”

Sarah’s eyes widened. She apparently hadn’t expected him to ‘fess up so quick. He truly didn’t see a point in keeping Ruby a secret from the band or Jeff. She was, after all, a friend. He expected soon to be introduced to her friends as well. The two meetings would be very different. He would be introducing a girl who wasn’t used to the life they lived. The limelight didn’t know her and he really didn’t want it to. She wouldn’t just be introducing a longtime friend. She’d be introducing someone they all knew from the press and media.

“Uh, tonight!” Clare chimed in.

So soon? He’d expected maybe like a day or two to prepare himself and Ruby. His friends could be a little…eccentric.

“Tonight?”

Clare nodded eagerly. “We could all get dinner.”

“There’s a good sushi joint with amazing dynamite rolls.” Mitch suggested.

Harry’s phone made a double-beeping noise, indicating the arrival of a new text. “Speak of the devil.” Alex wiggled his fingers.

 _Dear God_.

Harry took out his phone. It was, in fact, a text from Ruby.

 **Can you come over? It’s important.** 2:05 p.m.

The message was short and clipped. Something was bothering her.

 **Be there soon.** 2:05 p.m.

He looked at his bandmates. “I gotta go. See ya later.”

“Don’t forget about dinner!” Clare shouted as he jogged out of the booth. “6!”

He had barely knocked when the door to her apartment was thrown open. She was clutching a magazine in her hand, fingers dipping into to cover hard enough to skew the image.

“What’s wrong?”

She let him in, the door swinging shut behind him. She handed him the magazine. It was one of those trashy tabloids he tried to avoid even looking at. They made money off bad pictures and poorly fabricated stories of celebrities.

“I uh, was at the grocery and I usually get one or two of them to flip through when I’m bored. I think they’re funny-.”

“You actually _read_ these?” He was dumbfounded. She didn’t seem the type to ingest such blatant nonsense.

“That’s not the point. Just _look_ at it, would you?” Her thumb was worried in between her teeth, the edge of the nail harshly indented where she had been chewing on it.

He turned the tabloid over in his hand so that he could properly see the cover. He inhaled sharply.

It was a photo of them, from the night before. Actually, several photos. The one that graced the entire page was of them sitting on the bench at the end of the boardwalk. They were holding hands, turned towards each other. There was a smaller photo of the two of them eating their funnel cakes and another of them running down in the sand away from the paparazzi. The headline was in all capital, bold letters: **DOES HARRY STYLES HAVE A NEW FLING?**

She stared back at him, her eyes dark with worry. “Is that what this is to you? A fling?” Her voice was soft, but insistent. Concern coated every word she spoke.

“What? _No!_ Why would-?”

“Because if it is, you can take that magazine and shove it right up your-.”

He flung the tabloid to the floor, catching her attention. She clamped her mouth shut and stared back at him. “You know it isn’t. Stuff like this happens, Ruby. They don’t know we’re friends. I’ll have Jeff set them straight.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “Yeah, right. Of course.” She mumbled. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just assumed…”

He picked the magazine back up and tossed it on her kitchen counter. “You don’t have to apologize.” He assured her. “Look, uh, there’s something I’ve got to talk to you about anyway.” He told her that the band wanted to meet her. Dead set on having dinner that night. “You don’t have to go.” He said quickly. “Don’t feel ob-.”

“Of course, I’ll go. But,” she said slyly, “only if you agree to dinner with my friends tomorrow.”

Naturally, he agreed. “Do they know? ‘Bout me?”

Her cheeks tinted pink with heat. “Alyse knows. So it should be…interesting.”

He had no doubt about it.

“I really am sorry. About the magazine thing.” She spoke quietly.

Harry pulled her in for a hug. She fit him perfectly, her head nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Soft pieces of her hair tickling against his skin. She was warm, sweet-smelling, soft. The press of her fingertips against his back made his heart quicken and he could feel the heat of her through his shirt. She was hot-blooded, always warm like she’d just come from a stay on the sun.

“S’not your fault, love. We’ll get it all straightened out.”

She backed away, an uncertain smile on her face. “You’re nice, you know?”

He chuckled, nodding along. “I’ll talk to Jeff, get things fixed up. Ya want me to pick ya up for dinner?”

She hugged her arms around herself. “That’s fine.” She licked over her bottom lip. “You think they’ll like me?”

He sure as hell hoped they did. He couldn’t imagine why they wouldn’t, but there had been instances where the band didn’t particularly care for certain females in his life. “I’ll be on the market for a new band if they don’t.”

The comment made her a smile. It was a real one, much better than the half-hearted ones she had attempted earlier in the conversation. “You don’t mean that.”

“Nah.” He grinned. “Not really. But no worries, they’ll adore you.”

 _Just like I do,_ he said to himself.

_Let’s go crazy, crazy, crazy til we see the sun_

_I know we only met but let’s pretend it’s love_

_And never, never, never stop for anyone_

_Tonight let’s get some and live while we’re young_

She made casual clothing look spectacular. A simple yellow thin-strapped tank striped with navy and red lines paired with unevenly cut denim shorts and brown belt. Plain white slip-on canvas shoes. Hair tied in a high-up ponytail.

She slid into the backseat of the black Cadillac, a wicker purse slung over her shoulder. “Hi.” She greeted him with a grin. “This is a _nice_ car.”

“On rental while we’re here.” He explained. He gestured up to Craig. “Craig, this is Ruby.” The driver half-turned back and waved cordially.

“Nice to meet you!” Ruby’s hand shot forward. Craig shook her hand and turned back around. “Where are we going?” She asked as she clicked on her seatbelt.

“Mitch said it’s a sushi place.” At her facial expression, he blanched. “Shit, do you eat fish? Do you have allergies?”

“I eat fish.” She laughed. “And no allergies that I’m aware of. Grant got the raw end of the deal on that one. He can’t have gluten or nuts or shellfish.”

Harry made a noise. “What can he eat, then?” From what it sounded like, not a lot.

“Grass.” She snorted.

The restaurant was full of people. When they arrived, the hostess was waiting at the podium at the front of the main room.

“Reservation?” She didn’t look up from the notes on the paper.

“Under Styles.” He cleared his throat. “Eight people. I think we’re the last.”

She looked up from her notepad. He saw it, the gears turning in her head, the widening of her eyes. “Oh, my God.”

_Well, shit._

Her mouth was moving in the manner of that of a fish. Protectively, Harry grabbed Ruby’s hand. If he had to run, he wasn’t leaving her behind. “Uh, your table is in the back. You can follow me.” She grabbed two menus and stepped out from behind the podium.

Ruby looked up at him. She graced him with a soft smile before glancing down at their hands. He quickly let go of her.

They followed the hostess from the main room towards a private room in the back of the restaurant. He made sure to stay close to Ruby as they walked through. Several of the patrons were of the younger variety and, apparently, fans. Or invested enough in current times to recognize him.

“Here ya go.” The hostess slid open the frosted glass door to the private room. “Someone will be back in a few to take your orders.” She handed him the menus and waited until they were in the room before she left, sliding the door shut as she went.

“About time you got here!” Mitch greeted, holding up his glass.

“What were you two doing?” Alex teased.

His cheeks flushed.

“Traffic sucks ass this time of day.” Ruby told them. “Lived here for seven years and still haven’t figured out why it’s called rush hour when everything is slow as hell.”

Harry caught Sarah’s eye. She had that twinkle in her eyes, the I-approve look. So soon? Was that good?

There were two empty seats on the left side of the table, one at the southern head of the table and the other next to it by Adam. She moved first, seating herself right beside Adam. She asked him what he was drinking as Harry sat down.

Sarah kicked him under the table. _Pretty_ , she mouthed.

Well he knew that.

“Styles, are you going to introduce us or make us do it?” Clare questioned. 

He wasn’t doing bad but he wasn’t off to a great start either. Then again, he hadn’t really expected anything like this to happen so soon. “Sorry.” He laughed. “Jeff Azoff, my manager.” He was sitting at the northern head of the table. “Clare Uchima, best keyboardist you’ll ever meet. Sarah Jones, our resident genius drummer. Adam Prendergast, bassist. Alex Salibian, one of our two guitarists. And Mitch Row-.”

“Shoes!” Ruby threw her arms up. “My friend puked on your shoes!”

The others burst into laughter at Mitch’s expense. The guitarist buried his face in his hands.

“Sorry again.” Ruby made a face. “She’s not good at handling her liquor.”

Mitch waved it off. He said it was no big deal, he got them cleaned up.

“Glad to hear it.”

“Wait.” Sarah said, setting her glass of water down. “Hold on.” Everyone looked at her. She was staring right at Harry. “She’s the girl from the party? _And_ the old friend?” Ruby was looking between them, her brows knit in confusion. “Outside, mister.” Sarah was up, her hand wound around his bicep. She dragged him out of the private room. “You didn’t say they were the same girl!” She whispered hastily.

“I didn’t know ‘til the other night.” He held his hands up.

Sarah crossed her arms over her chest. “You have got it _bad_ , you know that? And what are you gonna do about the press? I saw a post from the _L.A. Daily_ today after you left. They think she’s your girlfriend.”

He sighed, hanging his head. He ran his hands through his hair. “I know. M’gonna talk to Jeff about it later.”

“Is that what you want, Haz? I thought you liked her, wanted to be with her?”

God Almighty, everything was getting too complicated. He didn’t know what he wanted. All he knew was that he cared about her, in a manner that was more than a friend cared for another friend. Maybe he did want to be with her. But he didn’t want to put her in that position. The press and media would be relentless against her. Her life would be upturned. He didn’t want to do that to her.

And he didn’t even know if she felt the same way.

“I don’t know, Sarah. But I don’t wanna put her in a position like this right now. S’not fair to her.”

Her face shifted into soft sympathy. “Come on, lover boy. Let’s get you back in there.”

_And girl, you and I_

_We’re about to make some memories tonight_

_I wanna live while we’re young_

_We wanna live while we’re young_

“What is _that_?” Harry gestured to the nine rolls of inexplicably odd-looking sushi that filled Ruby’s plate. There was a red sauce drizzled over a creamy white sauce on top of the rolls, both poured over some kind of raw fish, finished with chopped peppers.

She grabbed the bottle of hot sauce from the middle of the table and began shaking it. “Flame rolls.” As if it were completely obvious, he should have known. “Best sushi order you’ll ever eat.” She poured the hot sauce over each of the rolls. “Shrimp tempura and crab meat on the inside. Topped with spicy tuna, jalapenos, hot sauce, and spicy mayonnaise."

With her extra addition of hot sauce. Most people had a sweet tooth. She clearly had a penchant for spicy foods.

“How does your tongue not burn off?” Adam asked her.

She shrugged, poking her fork into her seaweed salad. “I like hot foods.”

“Clearly.” Adam chuckled.

Harry glanced at his very safe plate of deluxe lobster rolls. No spiciness to be found.

“Here.” Ruby held out one of the rolls near Harry’s plate. “Try it.”

Carefully, he took the small sushi roll from her. It was squishy and cold against his fingers. She was watching him closely, her mouth puckered slightly. He had a bad feeling about what he was about to consume. But, he did it anyway.

At first, it wasn’t that bad. He mostly tasted the prominent saltiness of the shellfish. And then, the spice hit. Four toppings, all spicy. He chewed quickly to try and get the experience over with. His tongue was on fire. How the bloody hell did she do this?

He swallowed it as fast as he could and took a large gulp of his water. “Holy fuck!”

She erupted in laughter, handing him her own water. “Weakling.” She said as he grabbed her water.

“Weak?” He rasped. “Something’s really wrong with your taste buds.”

She grinned back at him. “You’ll learn.”

Mitch gestured between the two of them, his mouth full. “How long have you two known each other?”

They looked at one another. Her cheeks were pink with blushed heat, blue eyes lit. “’Bout fourteen years.” Harry told him.

“Almost fifteen.” She added.

“Damn. And we’re just now meeting you?” Adam asked them.

Ruby chewed on her bottom lip. “It’s a funny story.” Harry took another hurried drink of his water. “You wanna tell them?” Her eyes flitted from him to his friends.

“Why don’t you?” He suggested. He was curious to hear her version of their story.

She leaned forward against the table. The ends of her hair brushed against the top of her almost-bare shoulder. “When I was nine, I didn’t have a lot of friends. I was a pretty shy kid.” That was hard to believe. “I really only hung out with my brother and maybe like one or two kids from my class. I didn’t get invited to sleepovers or birthday parties, not a lot anyway.” She spoke as if it weren’t a big deal, as if she didn’t bear witness to a lonely childhood. “My dad-.” Her voice broke suddenly. Her bottom lip trembled slightly, just barely noticeable. “My dad was a lot better with me than my mom at that age. He signed me up for this pen pal program, it’s called Open World. The program was really particular about not giving out addresses or last names, stuff like that. You just sent them your letter and they had on file who your pen pal was, and they went from there, so it was really safe. My parents liked that.” She continued to explain. “About a week or two later, we got an email saying I’d been matched with someone my age. And his name was Harry.” She shot him a soft smile. “We’ve been friends ever since.”

 _Friends_. Hearing it from her mouth stung. He always knew there was a possibility she wouldn’t feel the same way. He’d always hoped she would, though.

“And you’re just now meeting?” Sarah inquired. “Did you just not want to or…?”

Ruby rested her elbow on the table. She let her chin sit in the palm of her hand. “No. I’ve thought about meeting him every day for the last fourteen years.”

Instead of bothering Craig into driving them back to Ruby’s place and then back to his hotel, the pair decided to walk. They’d stayed at the restaurant for a few hours. She got on really well with all the band. Somehow, she’d weaseled approval from Jeff to sit in on recording. The band supplied her with plenty of stories on him, all of which resulted in her laughter and his embarrassment.

For L.A., it was relatively quiet out. There weren’t many people out and the weather was nicely bearable, a cool breeze ran through the air, shaking the palms of the trees.

She walked next to him, her arms wrapped around herself. Head turned up to the sky. The sky was dark. There were a few stars poking out, but not many. The moon hung over them, nearly full. Her arms were dotted with goosebumps and her hands rubbed over her biceps.

He shrugged his corduroy jacket off and draped it over her shoulders. “Thanks.” She whispered. It hung off her, clearly too big in the shoulders. She gripped onto the lapels to keep it close.

“D’you mean what you said?” She looked over at him. “’Bout meeting me. What you said at the restaurant earlier.”

“’Course I did.”

“I felt the same.” He admitted in a quiet voice. “Waited every day for fourteen years to meet you.”

“Well? Am I what you expected?”

“Want my honest answer?” She nodded slowly. “Didn’t really know what to expect. Was terrified you wouldn’t like me.” _Or want me_.

She gawked at him, halting her steps. She let go of the jacket and it nearly slid off her shoulders. He grabbed it, readjusting it. His fingers slid over the cooled skin of her shoulder. She was hardly ever cold. “Wouldn’t like you? You must be crazy.” She breathed. “I told you, you’re my best friend.”

Best friend. That could be enough for him. Maybe it could.

“Ruby, I-.” His sentence was cut off by the ringing of her phone.

She frowned and pulled it from her back pocket. “Uh, hold on.” She slid her finger across the screen, answering the call. “Derry, hey, look I’m kinda- What? I can’t hear you…No, where are you?...With Jude?...What do you mean _you think you took something_?” Her face was constricted. “Jesus fucking Christ.” She hissed. “Send me your location. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She hurried hung up.

“Is she okay?” He asked her.

She breathed unsteadily. “I don’t think so. Look, I’ve gotta go get her. I’m sorry to cut the night short.”

“I’m going with you.” He said duly.

“You don’t have-.”

“Don’t argue with me. I’m going.”

Her eyes sparked. Her phone dinged. “She just sent me her location.” A few seconds later, “It’s about twenty minutes from here. Is she…?” He waited for her to continue. “I know where she is.”

_Let’s go crazy, crazy, crazy til we see the sun_

_I know we only met but let’s pretend it’s love_

_And never, never, never stop for anyone_

_Tonight let’s get some and live while we’re young_

The cabbie rolled to a stop in front of a house that, along with the others on the street, had a set of Greek letters atop the roof. Music was blasting from inside the house, strobe lights flashing. “You’ve been here?”

Ruby muttered an indistinct answer. She plunged her arms through the sleeves of his jacket and threw open the door. She stepped out of the car and waited for him to join her. “I’m going to fucking murder him.” She hissed, slamming the door. “Who the fuck does he think he is? I swear to God.”

“Can you wait on us? We’ll only be a few minutes.” He asked the cabbie. The man replied with a brisk nod and gestured to the meter.

He followed noiselessly as she stormed up to the front door. She didn’t bother knocking before she shoved open the door. There was a mass of university students crowded into the front rooms of the house. It was summer and yet the festivities of this fraternity seemed in full swing. He couldn’t imagine what the parties looked like during the school year.

Ruby looked around, her ponytail swinging around viciously. Her face was pulled together in a way that made him wary to speak to her. A guy in a salmon polo walked by them, a red plastic cup in his hand. Ruby’s lip curled and she reached out. Her hand curled around the collar of his shirt. In his surprise, the boy dropped his cup. A dark liquid spilled out onto the floor. She shoved him against the wall.

She was a lot stronger than she appeared.

“Hey, what the hell!”

“Jude. Where is he?” She demanded. He asked who she was. “The person who’s gonna put you in the hospital if you don’t tell me where Jude McCall is.”

He was shaking. “Second floor. First door on the right.” He was, to put it bluntly, scared shitless of her.

So was Harry. He’d never expected such a brass and cold side of her.

Ruby sped-walked through the small foyer of the house. She took the stairs two at a time and he trailed behind her. He was right terrified of her anger. When they reached the second-floor landing, she stopped.

“Ruby.” He spoke tentatively. “Do you want me to go get her? You can wait in the car.”

“No. No way. She’s my responsibility.”

She turned to the right side of the hall. The first door leered back at them.

“Ruby-.”

She threw open the door. It slammed against the inside wall. “Oh, _hell no_.”

Derry was on the bed, her arm hanging over the side. Jude was standing over her, hand on her shoulder. His attention drew to them. Not enough time for him to react before Ruby crossed the room and shoved him back away from the bed.

“What the hell?” He shouted at her.

“You’d best shut it.” Harry advised him. He, however, wanted nothing more than to beat the bloody hell out of him. What kind of man preyed on a sixteen-year-old girl? No man at all.

Ruby leaned over the girl, pulling her up into sitting position. Derry was barely conscious. Her body was limp putty in Ruby’s hands. “Derry, hey.” Her words were much softer than they had been earlier. “Hey, wake up. It’s Ruby. Can you open your eyes?”

Derry mumbled something as her eyes fluttered.

“What did you take?” Ruby questioned her. “Derry, come on, you need to tell me what you took.”

The teenager mumbled incoherently. 

Ruby laid Derry back down, propping the pillows behind her back. She turned her attention to Jude. The young man was glowering back at her. “What the hell did you give her?”

“Nothing she didn’t want.”

Her cheeks flamed red. She jumped up from the bed and lunged at him. Harry reached out, securing his arm around her waist. She struggled against him, but he held her tight. “You piece of fucking shit!” She screamed at Jude. “She’s sixteen years old!”

When she stopped fighting against him, Harry let her go. She huffed. “She needs to throw up.” He told her. She glared at him, not very pleased he had kept her from wringing her hands around Jude’s throat. “Whatever she took, she needs to throw it up.”

Ruby nodded and went back to Derry’s side. She hooked her arm around the girl.

“Where’s your bathroom?” He asked Jude. He didn’t say anything. He only stared back at him. “Mate, you’d better tell me where the loo is before I bloody your fuckin’ face.”

“Down the hall.”

Harry gently moved Ruby to the side. “Let me.” He scooped Derry up from the bed and hooked her arm around his shoulder. “There we go, little love. Everything’s gonna be all right.”

He started to follow Ruby out of the room. She shoved into Jude. “Consider yourself fucking arrested, dipshit.” She snarled at him.

“Ruby.”

She backed away from him and stormed out of the room. Derry wasn’t very heavy in his arms. Ruby pushed open the door to one of the bathrooms. He sat her down on the floor near the toilet. “Hold her head up, will ya?”

Ruby knelt down next to her, supporting her head. “It’s gonna be okay.”

He slid his rings off and placed them in Ruby’s hands. “Hold onto these for me.” He rinsed his hands off in the sink. “All right. This won’t be too pretty.” He warned her.

“I’ve seen worse, I’m sure.” She pulled Derry’s tightly-coiled curls from her face.

Harry braced himself before shoving two fingers down the teenage girl’s throat. He almost gagged himself at the feeling. The tips of his fingers probed against her uvula. She gagged against his fingers and he withdrew his fingers from her throat. He shook the excess saliva off as she vomited into the toilet bowl.

“There we go. Get it out, little love.”

Derry was asleep in Ruby’s bed. He was sitting on her couch, watching through the open door into her bedroom. The young girl was tucked in tight. Ruby was standing over her, on the phone with Alyse. Her hand was running over the top of Derry’s head.

With one last loving touch, Ruby hung up the phone and left her bedroom. She left the door open a crack. With a sigh, she fell back on the couch next to him. “Alyse said to keep an eye on her through the night. And to make sure she gets a lot of fluids in the morning.”

“So, she’ll be okay?”

Ruby nodded, placing her phone on the small coffee table. She kicked off her shoes and nudged them under the table. “Alyse said you probably saved her from having to get her stomach pumped.” She rested her head on the back of the couch, turning her face so she was looking at him. “Thank you. For helping.”

“She’s important to you.”

“Like the little sister I never asked for.” She was smiling as she said it.

He grabbed the telly switch from the table and clicked on the television. “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll stay up and make sure she’s all right.”

“You sure?”

He nodded. He pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over her. “I’m used to being up late. Concerts, ya know?”

She gripped the blanket around her shoulders. She curled into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Her arm found its way around his midsection and he felt her sigh. It was only moments later when he felt her breathing even out and he knew she was asleep.

_Crazy, crazy, crazy til we see the sun_

_I know we only met but let’s pretend it’s love_

_And never, never, never stop for anyone_

_Tonight let’s get some and live while we’re young_

His neck was stiff. That was the first thing he realized upon waking up. He’d knocked out in sitting position. The telly was still on, volume muted. Some kids program was playing.

Ruby was curled into his side. Her face was burrowed into his neck, breath hot on his skin. The blanket had been adjusted so that it covered the both of them.

The clock on her wall read that it was just after eight in the morning.

He was careful in his rising. He moved in slow precision so as not to wake her. She murmured something incoherent as he laid her on the cushions. He peeked into the bedroom. Derry was still fast asleep, it didn’t seem as if she had moved at all through the night.

Breakfast, they’d both need breakfast on their waking. He moved to the little kitchen and opened the fridge. Liquid coffee creamer, eggs, condiments, orange juice, a filtered water pitcher, some plastic containers of leftover food. _Interesting_. He grabbed the carton of eggs and placed it on the counter space. Opening the cabinets, he was met with the realization that Ruby Manning did not keep a lot of food in her kitchen. There were at least three bottles of hot sauce, packs of instant ramen, a box of salted crackers, wheat bread, and granola bars.

Did she eat real food?

Eggs and toast it would be. He meandered through the cabinets before finding a pan to cook the eggs in. After cracking several eggs into the pan, he turned to the coffee maker.

She was a planner, it seemed. The filter already had fresh grounds in it, ready to be made. He pressed the button and left it at that.

“God, it’s early.” She groaned from the couch. He watched from his peripheral as she raised up. She looked over at him. “You’re still here. And you’re cooking.”

He moved the eggs around with a fork he’d found. Scrambled eggs were always a safe option. Everyone liked a scrambled egg. “Figured you’d both be on the famished side.”

She got up from the couch and walked over into the kitchen. She inhaled, eyes closed. “Coffee too?” Her eyes flittered open. “Can you move in?” She rested against the refrigerator.

“You wish.” _I wish_.

No, that was pushing it a little far.

As the eggs finished cooking, he took out the bread and plugged in her toaster. “Don’t think I forgot, you owe me a meal.” He reminded her.

“Trust me, I didn’t forget.”

“Ruby?” Derry’s voice called out from the bedroom.

“Kitchen.”

The floorboard creaked. “I had the weirdest dream that Harry Styles came with you to pick me up. Must have been the- _Oh. My. God_.”

Harry looked up from the cooking eggs. They were very nearly done. Derry was standing in front of the couch, her mouth hanging open.

“How do you like your eggs?” He asked her. “Made ‘em scrambled but-.”

“You’re Harry Styles.”

“I am.”

Her eyes bounced between he and Ruby. Her mouth opened and shut but no words ever came.

“How the fuck-?”

“Language!” Ruby admonished.

Derry was slack-jawed. “What is going on here? Am I still dreaming?”

Ruby shook her head, saying no. Derry asked, no, demanded an explanation. Ruby, while pouring a glass of water, explained the situation. They’d been friends for years (not knowing one another’s actual identities) and finally decided to meet. They met unknowingly at a party and then once again, the next day, at the bookshop. She handed Derry the glass of water and told her to drink.

“I can’t believe this. This is freaking insane. Harry Styles is making me eggs.” She downed the water. “Scrambled is good, by the way.”

He placed the finished batch of eggs onto three separate plates. He gave the first two pieces of finished toast to Derry. “Eat.” He motioned for her to sit down at the small table.

She mock-saluted him and took the plate. She situated herself at the table. “So, you _were_ with Ruby last night?”

“Mhmm.”

“Oh, my God. You saw me puke!” She groaned as Ruby placed a stick of butter and some grape jam on the table.

Ruby laughed. Harry stuck two more pieces of toast inside the toaster. Ruby took her plate of eggs and grabbed a bottle of hot sauce from the cabinet. She poured a healthy bit of it over her eggs. God, was she something else?

“Actually, I was the one who…you know…” He felt awkward, having to admit that his hand had been inside her mouth. She was only sixteen. A good eight years younger than him.

“ _Harry Styles made me puke?_ ” She was nearly screaming. “God, kill me now!”

Ruby rolled her eyes at the theatrics. He himself found it rather funny.

“Wait.” Derry ferociously buttered her toast. “Your fingers were down my throat? Sweet! Wait ‘til Viv finds out.”

“Ah, no.” Ruby said quickly. Derry frowned. “You can’t tell anyone, definitely not your friends. The only people who need to know are your dad and the police.”

“Daddy cannot know.”

Neither of them seemed like they were going to budge on the situation.

“Derry, I’m serious.”

“Me too! He’ll kill me!”

“No, he won’t. You have to tell him, and you have to tell the police. Jude gave you alcohol and something else. He was halfway to molesting you when we got there.”

Derry’s face shifted. Her eye twitched and she gripped her knife tight. “Fine. I’ll tell Daddy when I get home. He’s gonna be so pissed at me.”

“He’ll be mad, but happier than you’re all right.” Harry assured her.

From what he’d read in Ruby’s letters, the man seemed to really care about two things: his daughter and the bookshop.

Derry didn’t reply before turning to her food.

“I want that piece of shit in jail.” Ruby stabbed into her hot sauce doused egg.

“He will be.” He told her. “There’s no way he won’t go.”

She ate without another word. The apartment was noiseless as the three ate their breakfasts. Ruby practically funneled more water into Derry’s mouth while downing an entire cup of coffee.

“Good eggs.” Derry pointed her fork at the empty plate. “You should be a celeb chef.”

Harry snorted. “I think I’ll stick to singing for now.”

“That works too.”

_Wanna live, wanna live (wanna live while we’re young)_

_Come on, young_

_Wanna live while we’re young_

_Wanna live, wanna live (wanna live while we’re young)_

_Tonight let’s get some and live while we’re young_


	6. Six: Hey Angel-Ruby// July 17-18

_Hey angel_

_Do you know the reasons why_

_We look up to the sky?_

_Hey angel_

_Do you look at us and laugh_

_When we hold on to the past_

_Hey angel_

“I still can’t believe you kept this secret from us for seven years.” Blythe muttered.   
The three of Ruby’s friends (those who were female and of legal drinking age) were sitting in Alyse’s living room. She lived in a modest apartment, bigger than Ruby’s but nothing too flashy. Mandy was sprawled on the couch, wrist deep in a bag of pretzel M&Ms. Ruby was in the floor near her head, hand held out to accept whatever small donation Mandy was willing to give. Blythe was meddling in Alyse’s kitchen, picking out all the foods that could be considered remotely unhealthy. The actual rent-payer of the apartment was nowhere to be found. It was just past four in the afternoon, which meant she was on her way home from her shift at the hospital.

“I can.” Mandy dropped a few pieces of the candy into Ruby’s hand. “Ruby is the most secretive out of all of us. It took her two years to tell us about her dad.”

“Mandy.” Blythe shut the fridge, her voice suddenly soft. “Don’t.”

Blythe rarely played maternal. But on the odd case, she became fiercely protective.

Mandy reached and grabbed onto Ruby’s hand. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Ruby assured. “Really.” She gave a reassuring squeeze.

“Does Alyse know?” Blythe was rummaging through the cabinets. Every couple seconds, a disgusted noise left her mouth or a disapproving breath was passed from her nose. “All these Cheez-Its and Chicken Biskit crackers are going to make her gain ten pounds.”

“Why am I not surprised?” In Blythe’s ceremonial rummaging of their friend’s cabinets, none of them had noticed Alyse’s arrival. She kicked the door shut. “Now, what do I know?”

“About the existence of Ruby’s super-secret pen pal.” Mandy sat up. She nearly spilled the bag of candy into Alyse’s couch in her quick movement.

Alyse’s eyes widened. “Oh. Um.”

“Well?” Blythe crossed her arms over her chest, hip popped out.

“Yeah.” Alyse sighed.

Ruby groaned, banging the back of her head against the couch.

“You told Alyse but not us?” Mandy shouted.

“Bitch!” Blythe huffed.

“Hey, chill out.” Alyse dropped her bag onto the hook by the door. “Stop screaming at her. I found out by accident. I forced it out of her.”

“Accident.” Blythe deadpanned. “Yeah, I’ll believe that as soon as Moira decides I’m the perfect match for Chip.”

Mandy snorted, pouring more M&M’s into Ruby’s hand. “So, how did you find out about him?”

Alyse plopped down on the couch next to her and held out her hand. Mandy generously gave her a handful of candy. She popped a few in her mouth and kicked her feet up on the table.

“Uncivilized.” Blythe muttered under her breath.

Alyse shot her a shit-eating grin. “Few nights ago when I went over for dinner. First of all, she _cooked_.”

“Oh, my God, Ruby, were you trying to kill her?”

She rolled her eyes. She wasn’t _that_ bad…right? Oh, hell, who was she kidding? She was the worst cook on the planet. Probably even the universe. A disgrace to kitchens everywhere.

“Anyway, she went to throw away her mess of a cooking attempt and while she was gone, her phone kept going off. I thought it was Grant calling back, so I checked it. And what do I find but a couple missed calls and some texts from a mysterious contact called _H_.”

“For Harry, I’m assuming.” Blythe leaned against the back of the couch.

“You’re so smart, B.” Ruby said.

“Is that where you’ve been the past couple days?” Blythe asked. “Traipsing around the city with some complete stranger?”

Ruby shrugged. “He’s not a stranger. We’ve been friends for more than half our lives.”

“You have no idea that this dude is the same guy you’ve been writing! What if a stalker intercepted your letters or something and now he’s convinced you that he’s your pen pal?” Blythe stood up straight, hands on her narrow hips. She seemed overly mother-like in the moment, with her composure and chastising voice. “Or what if this dude is a complete freak and wants to wear your skin as a coat or something? God, Ruby, if any of us were going to be murdered, it would be you.”

“I think it’s romantic.” Mandy cut in. She tossed the almost empty bag of candy onto the coffee table.

When all else failed, she could always count on Mandy to side with her.

“Oh, that’s exactly what I said.” Alyse told Blythe.

Blythe’s thin, ginger eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Thank God you have some sense.” She turned her gaze- sharp and decisive- back to Ruby. “All right then. What’s he like? Tell us about the non-psycho-murderer pen pal.”

“He’s…” She was, for once around her friends, at a loss for words. How could she begin to describe someone who words could not do justice? No word in her vocabulary seemed good enough in detailing him. She could have scoured the dictionary through and through and still have been empty-handed.

The three of them were staring at her. Blythe was blinking slowly, impatiently awaiting a response she could tear to shreds. Mandy had resorted to fingering through the bag of M&M’s, half paying attention to the conversation as she dug for blue pieces of candy. Alyse was watching with a faint smile of pure amusement on her face. She got up from the couch and walked over to the hook rack by the door. She trifled through her purse, secretively pulling something out. She walked back to the couch. She tossed the item on the coffee table, folding her arms over her chest.

“Harry Styles?”

It was the tabloid, _Los Angeles Daily_. The one with the cover story of Harry Styles’ new ‘fling’.

Fuck.

Ruby rubbed her hands over her face. “I was going to tell you guys. Today, actually.”

Mandy dropped the bag of candy and swiped up the magazine. “You’re kidding. There’s no way!” Her eyes devoured the cover of the magazine. She tore it open to the article page. “This is you. With Harry Styles. You and Harry Styles.”

Ruby got to her feet. She bit down on her thumbnail, chewing against the rough edge. “It’s crazy, I know. I really still can’t believe it. But, uh, yeah. Harry Styles is my pen pal.”

“This is fucking ridiculous.” Blythe finally said. “This shit doesn’t just happen.”

“I know.” Ruby agreed. “But it did. It is happening.”

Blythe cut her eyes. “How are you even sure it’s him? He could’ve just thought you were pretty and went with it. He could be taking advantage of you. He’s a celebrity, they aren’t exactly all pearly gate ticket holders.”

God, she should’ve been a fucking attorney instead of an accountant. She easily would’ve won every case on fear alone.

“He knows things. Things I only told him. I mean, literal secrets that only he knows about me.”

Blythe crossed her arms over her chest. “Right. Well, I think I speak for all of us when I say I want to meet this guy.”

She sighed. Whether it was relief or exhaustion, she couldn’t tell. Everything that had happened with Derry the night before was still taking a toll on her. If she ever saw that punk-ass kid again, she was going to beat the holy hell out of him.

“So?” Mandy leaned near the edge of the couch. “When can we meet him?”

Ruby rubbed the spot under her ear. She dropped her hand from her mouth. “Is tonight okay? He wants to meet you guys too.”

Mandy squealed. “Oh, my God this is so exciting!”

“Fine.” Blythe decided. “But we’re doing it at our place. I’ll have Vera cook us dinner.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s okay.”

“Seven?” Alyse asked for consensus.

They all decided that seven was a perfect time.

Her stomach felt like a boat in the middle of a sea storm.

“If he turns out to be a creep, I’ll make him fry.” Blythe told her. All business. She was not one to joke around.

“Okay, _Mom_.” Ruby tried to lighten the mood.

If anyone was really the mom of their group, it was Alyse. But Blythe had her minute share of moments.

The redhead’s mouth puckered in disdain. “Ugh, don’t start.” After a moment, she had the ghost of a smile. “You like me better than your actual mom anyway.”

“Very true.” Ruby agreed.

She just needed to shake the feeling that this dinner wasn’t going to be a complete disaster.

_Oh I wish I could be more like you_

_Do you wish you could be more like me_

_Oh I wish I could be more like you_

_Do you wish you could more like me_

Nothing felt right. In fact, it all felt very, very wrong.

Her jeans didn’t fit right. They were so tight around her thighs and waist, they were sure to bust open at the buttons after only a few bites of food. There was no way she’d grown out of them, she’d just worn them a few weeks ago. The white tee she’d tucked into them was almost too…plain.

“Ugh!” She threw herself on her bed. It was new, a luxury she had allowed herself when she had first moved into the apartment right out of college. It still slept new, a little too firm all around where it should’ve been soft and pliable to her body.

There was absolutely no need to be so worked up. It was a simple dinner with the girls. And Harry. Couldn’t forget him. He was the whole reason they were hanging out in the first place. But God, was she terrified. The two worlds she had kept apart for so long were about to collide and she had no clue how to handle it. 

From the dresser, her phone buzzed.

“Shit.”

She scrambled up from the bed. She nearly tripped over a discarded blouse before making it to the dresser. That was exactly what she needed, a huge ass cut on her head. She grabbed her phone. Great. Harry.

 **Here. Should I come up?** 6:21 p.m.

Ah, hell. Out of time.

Ruby glanced back at the full-length mirror attached to her closet door. “Good enough.” She muttered, jamming her feet into the white canvas slip-ons. Slipping her phone in the back pocket of her jeans, she darted through the apartment, grabbing her purse from the hook as she went. She paused the lock the door and stuffed her keys back into her purse.

 _Probably quicker to take the stairs,_ she told herself.

But lord, did she hate the stairs. Especially the ones in the building. Slick metal with hardly any traction.

She was careful in her hurrying down the stairs, hand firm around the railing. She jetted through the lobby and out into the warm night air. July in Los Angeles was hardly ever cool. The black Cadillac was parked right by the door. The back door swung open. She climbed in, pulling it shut.

“Hey.” Holy shit, she couldn’t hardly catch her breath.

And Harry’s appearance certainly wasn’t helping any. Loose khakis, pristine white loafers, a white tee, and flared open patterned button-down. Fingers adorned in rings, nails clean of any polish.

“All right?” He laughed as she clicked on the seatbelt.

“Ran down the stairs.”

“Didn’t have to get in a hurry.”

She tried not to snort. “Trust me. I did. Blythe _hates_ when people are late.” Or just the idea of lateness in general. In Blythe’s world, if you weren’t thirty minutes early, you were late. She leaned up and told Craig the address for Blythe and Mandy’s house. “It’s about thirty minutes, I think. Up in the Hills.”

“Got it.”

She leaned back, laying her head against the headrest. Her phone buzzed. She adjusted and pulled it out. Derry.

 **You’re still good for the concert tomorrow? Please say yes, please say yes!** 6:26 p.m.

She groaned, hanging her head. She had completely blanked on the concert. It hadn’t been a hard thing to do when the performer himself was sitting right beside her. He’d been in her space the past few days, not that she was complaining.

“Problem?” Harry asked, peeking over her shoulder.

“Oh, uh, no.” She put her phone on sleep mode. “Derry just reminded me of something.” He asked what it was. Her cheeks were on fire. He was aware of the fact they had tickets to the show. Was that going to be weird? It would probably be weird. Right? “Your uh, your concert tomorrow…”

He blinked several times. He went back to his original sitting position he had been in when she first got in the car. “That’s right. You’ve got tickets.” He said, nodding along with his words. “You’re still going, right?”

“Do you want me to?”

His head whipped around. His green eyes were wide, mouth open slightly. Was he…offended? “You don’t like my music, do you?”

“What? I never- No, I didn’t say that!”

He crossed his arms over his chest, exhaling sharply. “Then why don’t you wanna go?” It was almost a babyish, whining tone. He was pouting.

“I just thought…It won’t be awkward?” She found herself toying with the rose-shaped ring on his middle finger. “Will it?”

He placed his hand over hers. He was always so _warm_. “No. As a matter of fact, I’ll feel loads better knowing you’re there.”

“You will?”

“Mhmm. So, will you come?”

“Well, if you insist…”

He seized her, pulling her into a side-bodied hug. The ends of his hair brushed over her forehead. “I do insist!”

“Oh, all right, fine!” She laughed, pushing off him. “You’re something else, know that?”

He grinned, the outer corners of his eyes crinkling. “Only care if you like it.”

“How could I not?”

Blythe had that look. Steel gaze, locked jaw, lips pressed together. She held a thin-stemmed glass of white wine in her hand. There was a faint lipstick smudge on the rim from her occasional sipping.

“So,” she spoke slowly, her bitched glare resting solely on the man two seats from her left, “you’re the guy we’ve heard absolutely nothing about.”

Ruby buried her face in her hands. They’d walked in the door ten minutes ago and Blythe was already on her top level of bitch. At that point, Ruby had no clue whether it was a scare tactic or her true personality come to light. She really hoped it was the former. “B…” She muttered.

Blythe Osterfeld had a cruel smile. It was very pretty, she had square, even teeth and a nice mouth. But something about her smile found people unsettled. “I just think it’s funny that you two have been friends for all these years and we’re only just now finding out about him.”

Ruby lifted her head. “Well, you know now.”

The ginger took a tentative sip of her wine and placed the glass back on the table.

“We’re just really glad to meet you.” Mandy interjected. She flashed a too-bright smile in Harry’s direction. She was sitting to Blythe’s immediate right, directly across from Ruby. “Ruby has nothing but nice things to say about you.”

Harry caught her eye with a smile. “I’m glad to hear it. She’s kept me plenty company over the years.”

Blythe’s eyes sparked.

“She says the same thing about you.” Alyse mentioned.

Ruby slid down in her seat, cheeks warm with embarrassment. When would this night from hell be over?

“Does she?” Harry sported a cheeky grin.

“Shut up.” She muttered.

Blythe cleared her throat. The swing-door that connected the kitchen and dining room swung open. Vera was walking towards the table, a large silver platter in her hands. “I hope you like duck.” Blythe aired.

Harry admitted that he’d never had it before.

“Interesting.”

Vera placed the platter at the middle of the table, leaning between Alyse and Mandy. “More wine, Miss Blythe?”

Blythe shook her head. “Thank you, Vera. Mandy and I can clean up after if you want to head home. Or, you can stay here for the night?”

Vera thanked her for the offer. “I’ll go home. I promised Harley I would finish his book with him tonight.”

Blythe’s close-lipped smile was much kinder than her open-lipped one. “Night, Vera. Thanks again.”

The older woman waved before leaving the room.

“I’m sure Ruby and I can stay and help.” Harry offered.

“Don’t feel obligated.” Blythe drawled.

“Just trying to be helpful.”

The corners of her mouth upturned slightly. “Right answer.”

_Hey angel_

_Tell me do you ever try_

_To come to the other side_

_Hey angel_

_Tell me do you ever cry_

_When we waste away our lives_

Over the course of time, the hard exterior of one Blythe Osterfeld withered away. With time and copious amounts of her favorite companion- wine. Of the white kind.

They found that Harry enjoyed duck, so much so that he had a second- and third- helping. They also discovered that in her adolescent years, Mandy Westlund had been a die-hard fan of a little band called One Direction.

“Please, don’t say anymore.” Alyse sputtered through her laugh. 

The small den area (one day destined to become a ‘man-cave’ for Chip Wolcott) was rarely used. Blythe thought it primeval and unnecessary. However, after dinner, they had migrated there. It was more comfortable and welcoming than Blythe’s favored (and stiffly furnished) sitting room.

“What? I can’t help it!” Mandy giggled, taking a long drink of her wine.

The den proved to be very comfortable. The cushions on the furniture were soft and yielding, the way good, lived-in furniture ought to be. Blythe had a perfect view of everyone from where she was sitting, perched delicately in the deep brown arm chair. She watched them all in a hawk-like manner. Alyse and Mandy on the loveseat. Mandy more persuaded by the drink than any of them.

Ruby and Harry took the couch. He lounged with ease, legs spread a decent amount. There was a tumbler half-filled with an amber liquid in his hand. He balanced it on the arm of the leather couch. Ruby was lying on him, head propped on the inside of the couch arm, torso over his lap. Her own drink, a poorly mixed lemonade tequila hung in her hand off the couch. Harry’s arm was over her midsection, hand on his knee.

“Next you’ll tell us that you used to touch yourself to the thought of one of them.” Alyse hung her head back.

Mandy’s sheepish smile answered the thought wordlessly.

“Ew, disgusting!” Ruby grabbed the tassle throw pillow lodged under her leg and slung it at Mandy. It clocked her in the shoulder and fell behind the loveseat.

“I’d rather not hear anymore.” Harry chuckled.

“Calm down it wasn’t you.” Mandy grumbled.

Ruby looked up at him. His eyebrow quirked up. “No? Who was it, then?” His brow furrowed. “I bet it was Louis, wasn’t it?”

Mandy shook her head. “Zayn. Ugh, he was so hot, even back then.”

Harry’s laughter bellowed out. “What ‘bout the rest of you? Which of my boys were you all hot for?”

Alyse proudly admitted that she had been attracted to Niall. “He just seemed so funny and sincere.”

“She has a thing for blondes.” Ruby supplied. She sat up so she could take a drink of her tequila.

Alyse smiled. “Not my fault your brother is a Greek God among us mere mortals.”

She rolled her eyes. She was undoubtedly accustomed to the female species pining after her brother. It had been an occurrence that followed her through life ever since he started middle school. It was one thing to have classmates fawning over him. It was something completely different when it came from her best friend.

“Don’t start.” She groaned. She stayed in sitting position, opting to lean her head on Harry’s shoulder. His arm moved with her, never leaving its position over her abdomen.

“We can’t help that your brother is a sex god.” Mandy finished her wine. She grabbed the bottle and poured the glass half full.

“You never said your brother was hot.” Harry said softly.

She jerked up. “That’s not the first thing I tell people. Especially since I don’t see him like that. We’re from South Carolina, not Kentucky.”

“Shame he’s getting married.” Alyse sighed. “Feel like I’m missing out on something big.”

“Yeah, his dick.” Mandy snickered.

“Gross!” Ruby’s eyes flashed. “That’s my brother!” In haste, she downed the rest of her drink. Her mouth twisted. Too much tequila, not enough lemonade. She coughed, the liquid burning her throat and chest.

Harry patted her back gently. “All right there?”

“I’ll live.” She replied meekly.

“Well,” he turned to Blythe, “what about you? Which boy tickled your fancy?”

Blythe narrowed her gaze. “None of you.”

He frowned. “Really?”

Ruby placed her hand over his. “Don’t be insulted. Those were B’s…difficult years. She only listened to Fall Out Boy, Black Veil Brides, and Paramore.”

Looking at Blythe, with her straight ginger hair cut sharply at her shoulders and held back from her face by a thick green headband, her emerald cocktail dress that fit very well and yet remained modest, and her triplet pearl jewelry set, it was increasingly hard to see her as anything else. Her later high school years and first semester of college, she’d worn heavy black eyeliner, fishnets under ripped black jeans or skirts, and baggy dark-colored shirts. It was all a ruse, of course, to battle the separation of her parents. Not that they’d paid a lick of attention, or so she said. Soon enough, she’d gone back to her plaid sweaters and nude colored heels.

“Mother hated it, which made it all the more fashionable.” Blythe mused. She turned to Harry. “My mother is a Grade-A bitch fest. Nothing compared to the hell that awaits me in my future mother-in-law, though.”

“That woman is a beast of hell.” Mandy agreed.

“More like the queen of it.” Ruby muttered.

Too many drinks. Her stomach sloshed around, her brain disconnected, vision blurred. Her mouth was dry, tongue heavy. All of her was heavy.

“Just stay here tonight. It isn’t a big deal, we’ve got room.” Blythe insisted, her hand on Ruby’s shoulder.

“No, we should really g-.” Her stomach lurched. “Oh.” She jerked away from Blythe and ran out of the foyer to the small guest bathroom in the hall.

She barely had the door shut before she was doubled over the toilet bowl. Dinner and drinks came spilling out of her. The acidic liquid burned her throat as it all came back up.

“I fucking hate tequila.” She groaned.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door softly. “Hey, love. Can I come in?” She reached up and pulled open the door. Her eyes were red and watery, face pale. “Ah, you don’t look so good.” Harry frowned.

“Gee, thanks.”

“Didn’t mean it like that.” He bent down and felt her forehead. “Not warm, actually pretty chilled. Probably the drinks, then.” He flushed the toilet and helped her up. “M’thinking it’d be best to crash here t’night. Putting you in a car probably isn’t the best idea.”

She nodded, leaning against him. “Sorry I smell like puke.”

“You smell fine. Let’s get you in a bed, yeah?”

Ten minutes later, they were in one of the guest bedrooms. Ruby was donned in a pair of Blythe’s pajamas, a set of silky shorts and a flimsy silk camisole. They fit a little weird. Blythe was taller than her and a bit thinner.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to sleep in another room?” He asked for the tenth time. “I don’t mind.”

She shook her head and flipped the light off. She crawled into the bed next to him. Unfortunately (maybe), Blythe had none of Chip’s clothes on hand, not even a pair of sweats or sleep pants. It probably should have been awkward, the fact that he was in nothing but his boxers and white tee. But she was a little too drunk for that to matter.

The heat of his body radiated and she scooted closer. “M’cold.” She mumbled.

“C’mere then.” He wrapped his arms around her, slipping one under her and the other over her abdomen. She slid her arm around him, keeping her other tucked between their chests. “Better?”

“Mhmm.”

The crook of his neck was hot, a grateful relief against her cool skin.

“Beds are too big when you’re alone.” The words slurred as they left her mouth. “Don’t like it.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Not alone now.”

She shook her head slightly. She craned her head up. In the darkness, she could just barely make out the lines of his jaw and nose. “You didn’t ask me.”

“Ask you what?”

“Who my favorite boy was in the band. You asked everyone but me.”

His laugh was still and quiet. “Couldn’t bear to hear if it wasn’t me.”

She tightened her hold around him. His tee was soft but she wasn’t a fan of it. It had created a barrier, a line between friends and more. She wanted more and didn’t know how to say. Or if she should at all.

He wasn’t just Harry. He was Harry Styles. _The_ Harry Styles. Famous world-wide. There was no way he’d want her. He’d dated celebrities and singers and all kinds. All beautiful and famous and perfect. Nothing like her.

Those girls probably liked sweet foods and didn’t douse their foods in hot sauce. They could probably hold their tequila a lot better, too.

Friends was good. Friends was more than good. It would have to be. She really didn’t think she could handle getting her heart broken by him.

Which, none of it stopped her from saying what she did next.

“It was you.” The truth, small and big at the same time. Simple and complicated. “You were my favorite.”

“Was I really?”

“Mhmm. Had cute, floppy hair.” She reached and ran her fingers through the soft curls. “Liked it long, though. Made ya look rugged. Older.”

“I look young now?”

She whispered a soft _no_. “You look good now. Better than ever.”

“Ya think?”

She nodded, the movement sluggish. “Y’always look good though. Not fair.”

“Now, that’s a compliment coming from you.” She mumbled, asking what he meant. “You make everything look good.”

Her breath died in her throat. She caught her bottom lip in her teeth.

“Go t’sleep, love.”

_Oh I wish I could be more like you_

_Do you wish you could be more like me_

_Oh I wish I could be more like you_

_Oh I wish I could be more, I could be more, I could be more_

She was quickly turning into a writing failure. She hadn’t written nearly enough the past few days. All her focus and attention had been on, quite literally, everything else but the book.

The bell over the door chimed.

“Good morning!” Derry swept into the store, arms laden with shopping bags.

“Don’t talk so loud.” Ruby groaned.

Derry skirted to a stop. Ruby quickly flicked off her sunglasses and blinked. The sunlight that streamed through the windows was harsh and in no way her friend at the moment. “You’re _hungover_.”

“Shush!”

Derry giggled and heightened the bags on her arms. “You look awful.”

Ruby cut her eyes. “What’re you doing here? You aren’t scheduled today.”

Derry placed the horde of shopping bags on the counter. “I have a surprise for you.”

Oh, that wasn’t good. And she did not like surprises.

“For what?” Ruby leaned against the counter. “Look, if this is about the other night, you don’t have to-.”

Derry delved into one of the bags and pulled out a package wrapped in fine white paper. It was tied with a twine bow. The girl had a thousand-watt smile on her face. She slid the package across to her. “Open it!”

There was no getting around the not-so-gentle protests. Ruby sighed and pulled on the bow. She let it fall and peeled open the thin paper. “Derry…” Her hand ran over the powder blue material.

“It matches your eyes.” Derry pointed out. “I saw it and thought it’d be perfect for you.”

Ruby pulled the piece of clothing from the opened wrapping. It was a skirt, soft and flimsy under her fingers. Two ruffles near the bottom hem. There was more material still in the wrapping. She laid the skirt down and picked up the other piece. A ribbed materialled tube top.

“Is this…?”

“Yep! It was such a cute set and it goes so nice with your eyes-.”

“Where would I wear this?” She asked seriously.

Derry’s dark eyes glinted. “Oh, you know. Maybe a party or a date or a…” Derry’s fingers twisted around the twine string, “Harry Styles concert.” She had a dangerous smile on her face. There was no better schemer than a sixteen-year-old girl bored in the summer time.

“No. No way. I am not wearing that tonight.” Ruby’s head shook furiously. She placed both pieces of clothing in the white paper and pressed the edges over each other.

“Oh, come on!” Derry pressured. “It’s so cute and you’ll look _ah-mazing_ and-.”

“Derry, it is way too much. I was just gonna wear some shorts and a tank top or something.”

The look on the younger girl’s face made it seem as if Ruby had just stabbed her in the heart. “You’re hopeless.” Derry pushed her back against the counter.

“I’m practical. It’s just a concert.”

“It is _not_ just a concert, Ruby!” Derry stomped her foot.

Ruby raised an eyebrow. Was she…throwing a tantrum? “Well, last I checked it was.”

The young girl’s lips puckered out in frustration. “Okay, it is kind of is just another concert for me because I’ve seen him in show before but this is _big_ for you.” She asked how so. “Come on, I saw how you two were with each other. There’s so much romantic tension, you’d need a chainsaw to cut through it.”

“Now you’re talking crazy.”

“I am not and you know it.” She insisted. “You like him and I think he likes you too so I got you the outfit because you have to knock his socks off and look out of this world fantastic-.”

“I don’t always look like that? Weird.” Ruby smiled from the corner of her mouth.

Derry rolled her eyes. “Right. Anyway, you can’t stand there and tell me you don’t have some kind of feelings for him. I know you pretty well, Manning. We’ve been friends for a while.”

She wouldn’t necessarily call it friends. More like a babysitter-kid bond that stretched too deep. Possibly even sisters.

“Okay, so, what if I, this is metaphorically speaking, did happen to have feelings for him?”

Derry grinned. “Then you’d realize the smart choice in wearing the outfit I bought you. You’d also close up early because I have big plans for you.”

That didn’t sound good. At all. “I can’t just close up early. I do need this job.”

“Yeah, yeah. I talked to Daddy and said we needed some girl time in light of recent events and he said you could close early and he’d pay you for the full day.” The girl was a fiend. “Oh, look in…this bag.” She slid a bag from a shoe store in front of her.

With a sigh, she plunged her hand into the bag and pulled out a shoe box. Derry watched with a wide smile and she opened the box. It was a pair of platform sandals with white leather straps over the top. She checked the size on the box. Seven.

“How do you know my shoe size?” Ruby asked her.

“I’m at your apartment all the time. You think I don’t go through your clothes and shoes?”

Ruby put the shoes back in the bag. “You terrify me.”

“Good. Now, let’s go.”

Derry’s idea of a girl’s day was a lot more strenuous than her version of a girl’s night. There was a spa a few blocks from the store that Derry frequented. They provided a sauna, massages, facials, mud baths, and a variety of other services.

The two girls spent the early part of the day relaxing in a mud bath with deluxe facials afterward. They got manicures and pedicures (Derry getting her nails and toenails a bright pink and Ruby opting for a soft off-white).

After the spa, Derry dragged her to her favorite salon down the street. Ruby insisted it was way too much for a concert but it fell on deaf ears. Derry (assisted by her father’s ultra-premium black card) treated her to a blow-out and even had the beauticians do their makeup.

By the time they were done, it was nearly seven. The concert started at eight-thirty. They changed at Ruby’s place and Derry promised to return the next day to pick up her things.

“You aren’t staying the night?”

“No way.” Derry shook her head as they slid in the back of the Uber. “You’ve got plans after the show.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. I know things like this. You’d think you would too, all those books you read. I know when love is in the air and boy, oh boy, do I see hearts when you two look at each other.”

Ruby shook her head slowly and leaned her head against the back of the seat. She smoothed the skirt over her legs. It was kind of short…not something she’d usually wear.

The whole outfit was a stretch out of her comfort zone, even the shoes. And the makeup. She never strayed from a small swipe of highlight and a little mascara. But the cosmetic technician had done her face up to the nines. Contour, highlight over her cheeks and down her nose, little swishes of blush, lengthening mascara and a dark swipe of eyeliner. All finished with a rose-pink lipstick swiped over with a gloss.

At least, she reminded herself, she’d been able to control her hair. In fact, after the blow-out, she hadn’t seen any need to fix it. The technician had used a rounded barrel brush with the blow-dryer, so her hair was shaped with large, loose curls.

“You look good.” Derry patted her knee. “Really hot. He’s gonna lose his mind when he sees you.”

Her face heated up. She indulged herself with the idea. His perfect-toothed smile, the crinkle of his eyes, the bright green of his irises. The sweet dimple in his left cheek.

Would he hug her? Most likely, they were an affectionate pair of friends. He would smell salty from the sweat, it would almost overpower his musky cologne completely.

“Are you daydreaming about him?”

She blinked, washing away the thoughts. “What? No.” But she had a smile on her face.

_Yeah I see you at the bar, at the edge of my bed_

_Backseat of my car, in the back of my head_

_I come alive when I hear your voice_

_It’s a beautiful sound it’s a beautiful noise_

_I see you at the bar, at the edge of my bed_

_Backseat of my car, in the back of my head_

_I come alive when I hear your voice_

_It’s a beautiful sound, it’s a beautiful noise_

The Forum was packed. Literal thousands of excited fans waiting for Harry Styles.

Ruby bounced on the balls of her feet, eyes darting back and forth around the line. They were edging closer to the front of the line. Ruby shook her ticket, the end of the rectangular piece of paper hitting the butt of her palm.

“Are you _nervous_?” Derry pinched her arm.

Ruby shook her head. Nervous? No, why would she be nervous?

“Dude, chill out. You’re starting to draw attention.”

She was right. People were staring. She stilled herself and inhaled slowly. She remained passive until they reached the front of the line. They both flashed their tickets and he nodded them through. They walked through, following the masses into the stage arena. It was already half-filled with eager fans awaiting the beginning of what was sure to be an energetic and unforgettable show. Nothing headlined by Harry could be called anything else.

“Ruby.” Someone’s hand was on her shoulder.

She spun around. It was Jeff. Harry’s friend. And manager. “Oh. Hi, Jeff.”

He smiled, nodding at Derry. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Harry said you’d be here and he wanted to know if you and your friend- Derry, right?- if you two wanted to watch from backstage.”

Derry jumped up, a squeal passing from her lips. “OMG, that would be so cool!” She grabbed onto Ruby’s hand, shaking it aggressively.

“Is that, uh…really?” Ruby pulled away from Derry.

Jeff nodded again. “I myself think that the view from backstage is much better. Not as crowded either.” He looked around, eyes cut low as if he were looking for someone. Or hoping not to see someone. “Between us, I think he just wants to see you. But I can tell him you’d rather watch in the crowd.”

“No!” Derry grabbed her by the shoulders. “Lead the way!”

“Derry-.”

“Shh!” The girl hissed.

Ruby clamped her mouth shut.

“Great! Let’s go, then. By the way, he’ll love the outfit.”

Derry squealed again.

Ruby herself couldn’t find the words. Her breath was completely gone and with it, her use of speech.

Jeff put his hands on both their shoulders and led them through the crowd to a closed off hallway. The security guard let them through before latching the rope back to the post. The hall led to the backstage area of the Forum.

People were scurrying around. She spotted Sarah and Adam, she with drumsticks twirled in her hands and he toying with the strings on his guitar. Sarah spotted her and nudged Adam. They both waved and began to walk over.

“Our favorite Californian.” Sarah greeted with a smile.

“Don’t let Alex hear.” Adam chuckled.

“Who’s this?” Sarah gestured with her drumstick to Derry.

The girl, for once, was speechless. Her dark eyes were wide as she looked around the area.

Ruby elbowed her in the side. “This is Derry. She’s my boss’ daughter. Kinda like my sister. Derry, this is-.”

“Sarah Jones and Adam Prendergast. Drummer and bassist.” Derry rattled off.

Ruby made a face. “She’s my resident superfan.”

“Riiight.” Adam said slowly. “Good to meet ya, kid.”

Derry nodded, entranced by the ruckus of everything around them.

“Band! On stage for warm-ups!” Jeff shouted from somewhere.

Sarah saluted with a drumstick. “That’s us. Catch you guys later!” She grabbed Adam by the guitar strap and pulled him away.

“This is so cool.” Derry muttered. “Way better than being down in the crowd with all those screaming fans.”

Ruby frowned at her. “ _You’re_ a screaming fan.”

Her eyes widened.

“But she’s a screaming fan _backstage_.” She heard his voice before she saw him. His hand was on her shoulder. Warm, rings adorning his fingers. “Glad to see you accepted my invitation.”

“Jeff was very persuasive.” Ruby’s voice was quiet.

Derry nudged her head discreetly.

She turned to face him. She gave a little gasp at the sight of him.

_So, that was why Jeff said he’d like my outfit…_

Harry was dressed in a powder blue suit, exactly the same color as her own outfit. His button-up shirt under the jacket was a soft teal color. He had on blazing white dress shoes. The curls closest to his forehead were slicked up and back.

“One of us is gonna have to change.” She told him.

“I could just go out in my whities. Sure the crowd would love it.” He wore a shit-eating grin.

“You’d be responsible for thousands of heart attacks, Styles. Better not. I’ll change if it means the lives of all those young girls will be spared.”

He stepped back from her. He rested his chin on his fisted hand. His eyes raked over her and as they did, a chill rippled down her spine. “Hmm, no.” He finally spoke, shaking his head slightly. “You look too good to change. We’ll just have to match.”

“If you insist.” She smiled up at him. “You look pretty good too.”

“Just pretty good?” He raised an eyebrow. “I thought I looked damn near sexy.”

“He’s right!” Derry agreed. “Don’t you think?” Oh, she could have strangled her. There was a challenging look in her eyes.

Harry was staring at her with an expectant look. “Damn near.” She said resolutely. “But not all the way. Can’t fuel your massive ego too much.”

“I’ll take it.” He resigned.

“Harry, five minutes!” Jeff shouted.

“Real quick then. Come get a photo of me with my girls!”

_His girls?_

She couldn’t protest before Jeff was jogging over. Harry said he left his phone in the dressing room. Ruby pulled hers from her purse and handed it to Jeff. She tossed the handbag to the side.

“C’mon, little love. You too.” Harry motioned Derry over.

He stood in the middle of them. He slung his arms over their shoulders.

“Smile!” Jeff instructed.

She hoped hers didn’t look too forced. The camera flashed.

“Great, now one of you too!” Derry quickly stepped away before Ruby could snatch her. “Ooh, stand behind her and put one arm around her shoulder.” She told Harry. “It’ll be cute.

She was so going to wring her neck after the concert.

Harry did as instructed. He moved, just barely while she remained immobile. In reality, she probably couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to. He wrapped his right around her, letting it hang off her shoulder.

“Now just…do whatever.” Derry motioned with her hands.

_What?_

She looked up at him. His jaw structure was unbelievable. If art were a person, it would be him. Not even the greats could have conjured up something as perfect as him.

“Why’re you starin’?” He whispered. He had a steeled look on his face.

“You do look good.” She murmured.

It broke his pensive expression. His mouth spread into a smile.

“Thank you.”

He grabbed her hand, twisting their fingers together. “Be my good luck charm, yeah?”

“You don’t need luck. You’re amazing.”

“Gonna say no to me?” He looked down at her, mouth pulled into a pout. Ah, the puppy dog face. Mastered by children, puppies and teen girls named Derry Simmons. And, so it seemed, Harry Styles. He was irresistible, pouted face or not.

“You make it impossible.” She relented. “I’ll be your best luck charm.”

“So sweet to me.” He reached with his left hand and cupped her chin. He squeezed his fingers together, squishing her face in. “S’cute with your squished face.”

“Quit it.” The words came out muffled and scrambled through her pursed lips.

He was lighting quick when he brushed a fast kiss to the top of her head and let her go. He waved, running out on the stage.

For what felt like the first time since arriving backstage, she breathed.

“Here.” Derry handed Ruby her phone. “Thank me later. In your wedding speech.”

In her wedding what now?

She decided against responding and pilfered through the recently taken photos while retrieving her purse from the floor. Her smile in fact did look forced in the group photo. And in the first few of just the two of them. But she found that the further they went, the more genuine her smile seemed. Harry’s own smile and his truly masterful puppy dog pout brought out her smile. Her favorites, she quickly deemed, were one where they were smiling at one another. Probably right after the luck spiel. And where he had pushed the bottom part of her face together and was grinning down at her. She hadn’t realized that in the moment, she’d reached and put her hand on his neck. Derry had snapped a blurry image of the impossibly quick forehead kiss. The pressure on her face gone, his hand resided just under her chin, fingers splayed on her jawline. 

“LOS ANGELES!” His roar from the stage could’ve been heard in Mexico. The reaction from the audience was immediate. Screams. All screams.

She hugged her arms around herself and watched as his personality and entire sense of being set the Forum on fire.

_Hey angel_

_Hey angel_

_Do you look up to the sky_

_Do you look up to the sky_

It was a long night but she never found herself tired. She loved watching him on stage. He was electric. Lightning personified. He never seemed to tire himself, even drenched in sweat. He ran around, danced, jumped, all while singing. Blew water up in the air from his mouth like a whale. The crowd ate him up. They loved every second of him.

Derry sang along to every song, loud and proud. She knew all the words. He sang songs from his first album, the second being in the works. Her favorite of his self-titled album was _Only Angel_. It was fast and hyper and made her feel alive. He also delved into the past and sang songs from his days in One Direction. The classic _What Makes You Beautiful_ , which she unashamedly knew the words to. She hummed along to it, well aware that her singing voice was hellishly awful.

At the end, he was quiet for several minutes. Deep breaths and a long drink from a bottle of water. The crowd stilled as he stood in silence, staring back at them.

“Last song of the night, I’m afraid.” He told them. There was a chorus of ‘Boos’ from the crowd. “I don’t want to go either, promise.” He leaned up against the mic stand and dipped it forward. “My last song tonight, here in the City of Angels, is for my best luck charm.” Derry seized her arm, squeezing the skin tight. “My own little angel. You know who you are!”

She couldn’t move. Her legs were locked tight, feet nailed to the floor. She was speechless as he whispered something to the members of his band.

The familiar intro music to a song with a name she couldn’t quite place started up. His foot tapped along on the floor, hand wound around the top of the mic stand. For just a fraction of a second, they were looking at one another.

He smiled. “ _Hey angel/ do you know the reasons why/ we look up to the sky/ hey angel/ do you look at us and laugh/ when we hold onto the past/ hey angel…_ ”

The rest of the song was lost to her. The music, the words, everything was gone. All she saw was him. He never left his position at the microphone stand.

She was screwed.

_Oh I wish I could be more like you_

_Do you wish you could be more like me_

_Oh I wish I could be more like you_

_Do you wish you could be more like me_

It happened fast. He was running off the stage and then he was hugging her. And then, he was gone.

She stood, shell-shocked in her place as movement overtook the backstage area. Her mouth was clamped shut, hands balled to fists at her sides.

_What the hell had just happened?_

“I can’t believe it!” Derry giggled. “You’re his angel!”

She didn’t respond. She didn’t know what to say. Did he…No, he couldn’t…Unless…No. No, he was being a friend. A very generous and very affectionate friend. One who was very good as blurring the line between friends and…more.

“Are you okay?” Derry elbowed her gently.

Ruby swallowed and then she nodded slowly. “Fine. Perfectly fine.” Her mouth was coarse and dry. She did not feel fine.

The two stood amongst the mass for what seemed like hours before Harry emerged from his dressing room. The suit had been traded in for a pair of simple jeans, a tee, and oversized cat cardigan. He approached them, hands in his pockets.

“We’re all going for a bite. Want to join?”

Derry checked the time on her phone. “Oh, crap. Can’t. It’s after eleven. I gotta get home.”

They both looked at Ruby. By a twist of cruel fate, her stomach made a wretched noise. “I could eat.” She said meekly.

“Good. Derry, we can drop you off so you aren’t riding alone. Car’s ‘round back.” He gestured with his thumb towards the back of the building.

“Cool!”

He wrapped his arm around Ruby’s shoulder and pulled her close. “Have a good time?” Solemnly, she nodded. “All right?” Again, she nodded. He frowned. “Derry, why don’t you go on to the car and we’ll meet you?”

The girl gave no objection before wandering off in search of the back door.

Harry stepped away from her and removed his arm from her shoulder. “You gonna tell me what’s the matter or…?”

Her bottom lip wobbled. Fuck, she did not need to cry. She hated crying. But her lip was trembling and her nose kind of burned and her eyes already felt wet. Damn it, she was crying.

“Hey, don’t cry. Don’t cry, please.” He pulled her in for a hug. He ran his hand over the back of her head. “Why’re you crying?”

A choked sob escaped her throat.

“Ruby…”

She sniffled and stepped back. “You’re going to leave.” It was such a simple statement, so obvious and plain. One day, he would have to leave. His home wasn’t L.A., it was London. He would go and she’d be left behind.

Always left behind.

“I…Yeah, but not for a while. Won’t be for ‘nother month or so.”

“I don’t want you to go. But-But I know you have to and-.”

He hugged her again. “Angel, I will be going back to London but that doesn’t mean we won’t ever see each other again.”

“Really?”

He chuckled, holding her a little harder. “With my heart. I’ll fly you to London whenever you can come. Or we’ll go anywhere you want. Paris, Rome, Tokyo, wherever. I’ll come back and visit.”

She took a few deep breaths and stepped back. She carefully wiped under her eyes, cautious not to ruin her eye makeup. All she needed after that was for him to see her looking like a mangy raccoon.

He swiped a tear from her cheek. “You’re my best luck charm. Can’t be without you for long.” The pad of his finger pressed down on the tattoo inside her arm. “These may be semi-permanent, but I’m not, okay?”

She nodded. “You meant it? About Rome?”

He let out a breathy laugh and shook his head. “Wherever you wanna go, I’ll take you.”

“How about a takeout place for now? I’m damn starving.”

_Hey angel_

_Hey angel_

It was in the early hours of the morning. After a late (very late) dinner with the band, they’d ended up back at her apartment. An old noir movie was playing that neither of them were paying attention to.

“Will you send me those photos? I’d like to have them.” He asking, poking her thigh.

She grabbed her phone off the coffee table and went to the Photos app. She selected all of them and sent them to him. “Done.”

“Thank ya.” Not soon after, his phone made a noise indicating it had received the message containing the photos.

“Hey.” She nudged him as he went through the newly sent pictures. He hummed, not looking up from his phone. “You make me proud, know that?”

He looked up. “Why do you say that?”

“You just spent two and a half hours performing in front of thousands of people. You’ve been famous for years and you don’t let it go to your head. You’re Harry Styles but you aren’t just _Harry Styles_. You’re you and it reflects back into your music and your work. You aren’t doing it to sell records or make money. You’re doing it for you. And that’s why your fans love you so much.”

He reached across and picked up her hand. “Thank you, for that.” She nodded firmly, content. “That why you love me? ‘Cause I’m myself?”

Barely, just barely, she hesitated. Only a little before she rolled her eyes. “No. I love you because you’re the only person who doesn’t shit on me for my hot sauce obsession.”

“It is a little unnatural…”

“I take it back.”

They shared a laugh, brief but encompassing where they only looked at each other. His eyes flicked down to his phone.

“This one.” He said decisively. He turned the phone to show her the screen. It was the photo of them where he was squishing her face. One of her favorites.

“What about it?”

“You wanted me to set the record straight, didn’t you? ‘Bout us.”

Oh, that. She’d almost forgotten about the tabloid pictures and article.

“Yeah, right. Forgot for a minute.”

Her phone buzzed several times. She frowned and picked it back up.

Instagram: **harrystyles followed you**

Instagram: **harrystyles tagged you in a post**

Her eyes slid over to him. He was intently focused on the movie. She opened the app. It was the first post on her feed. Their picture. No filter, just them. She scrolled down to see the caption.

**harrystyles: thankful for a supportive best friend// she makes a pretty decent best luck charm as well// night all x**

“Sap.” She whispered. The corner of his mouth tugged in a smile. “Thank you.”

In quick succession, she made the photo her lock and home screen and posted it on her own account.

**itsrubyj: one of us is gonna have to change// always proud of my rock star bff**

She clicked her phone off and tossed it back on the table. Almost immediately, he checked his own phone and then looked over at her. “Ruby J? Hiding a middle name from me?”

“Not hiding. You never asked.”

“I’ll bite.”

“Jane.”

He sat back. “Jane.” He said it a few different times, each in a new way. “Ruby Jane…I like it.”

“Thank God.” She responded dryly.

He patted her thigh. “My little angel, Ruby Jane.”


	7. Seven: Sunflower Vol. 6- Harry// July 20

_Sunflower_

_Sunflower_

_My eyes_

_Want you more than a melody_

_Let me inside_

_Wish I could get to know you_

The song was finished. Done. Over with. Several days of work and hard effort culminated into six minutes. The studio was empty. The others had left to celebrate the finishing of the track, the first song for the new record. He, however, had a date.

Not a true date. Ruby was meeting him at the studio to hear the song. Harry hadn’t wanted anyone else around. It would be hard enough to bear the pain if she didn’t like it, he didn’t want to add on the extra embarrassment of the band and Jeff hearing her torturing thoughts.

“All right, let’s hear it!” The door into Studio 4 swung open. It was just past six, she’d come straight from the bookshop. Ink was smeared on her hands and arms.

She’d been writing.

“You have to be honest if you hate it. I place a high value on constructive criticism.”

She waved him off. “I know you, H. I’m gonna love it.”

 _Bloody hell,_ he thought, _I hope so. It’s about you._

Not that he would ever admit that to her. Or anyone.

“You sure? You remember the deal?”

She nodded in assurance. She sat down on the couch and placed her satchel bag on the floor. Per the agreement made the night before (or rather, pinky swear), he would let her hear the finished song only if she let him read what she had written of her book so far. She had been hesitant, but ultimately agreed. She leaned down and produced a blue journal from the bag. It had thin slips of paper slipped between the pages. “I’m ready.” She rested the journal on her thighs and let her hands lay there. “Amaze me, Harry Styles.”

He sat down in the swivel chair. He pressed down on the play button. She closed her eyes. For six minutes, she sat that way as the song played through. The sound of his voice accompanied by a soft strum of Mitch’s guitar in the back. He watched her face for those six minutes. The rhythmed playing of her fingers on her knee. The lodging of her bottom lip under her teeth. Her eyes never opened. Her general expression remained passive, unreadable. When the song ended, her eyes opened.

Neither of them spoke. He tapped his fingers against the panel board. “H…” It was a satin word, shrouded over a knife. The first letter of his name, something only she called him. A build to what would become an easy let down.

“You don’t like it.”

He liked the song. He loved it. It was a phenomenal track. So, what about it threw it for her?

“No.” She sighed, leaning back on the leather couch. “I love it.”

“You do?”

She nodded. “Why are you surprised?”

“Are you sure?”

She laughed breathlessly. Ruby had such a nice laugh. How had he gone so long without hearing it?

“Yes, I’m sure, you dumbass. You’re an amazing artist. You don’t write songs for other people, you write them for yourself. You write from your heart and your soul and it shows. It’s why everyone loves you. You aren’t one to hold back.”

She was so resolute in her assurance, so utterly convincing he gave no more on the topic. Her miniature speech had given way to the perfection of the song. His muse loved it and therefore, it was perfect. He couldn’t argue with that.

“Here.” She handed him the journal. Her prized possession. He doubted anyone’s eyes but hers had even seen inside it. “I just finished the third chapter.” Per the ink smears.

“You gonna watch me read?”

She nodded solemnly. “You watched me listen to your song. I’m gonna watch you read my book.”

He settled into the chair. He peaked at her through the corner of his eye. She was leaned impossibly forward, arms on her thighs, hands clasped together. Mouth drawn together, shoulders tense.

Had he looked like that while playing the song?

He was careful opening the journal. Immediately, there on the first page, he recognized the scrawl of her script. Looped letters curved together. Some of the words were smudged off. Why did she handwrite (and in fountain pen), when it was so much easier to type?

And he set to reading.

A noiseless hour and a half (roughly) sat between them. He had read each chapter over twice. He had to. He craved _more_. A smooth introduction to the world she had so tediously created. Not a period piece, though she had incorporated names such as Magdalena and Thaddeus. She liked historical fiction, he knew that. They lived in New York, Queens to be exact. Unknown to one another until a chance encounter in a bookshop. Neither of them was truly satisfied with their lot in life. Magdalena a waitress who had dreams of Broadway stages. Thaddeus a silver spoon in his mouth from day one and destined to follow his father’s steps of law school, but a down-pressed affinity for theatre. They meet in the second chapter, the third ending with yet another show production rejection for the down and out heroine.

He closed the journal, running a finger down the spine. When he looked at her, she was bouncing her feet and had her bottom lip worried between her teeth.

She blinked expectantly.

“Kinda hard on your girl Magdalena, weren’t you?”

“Is that…you read it all and that’s what you focused on?”

“It’s good, Ruby. It is.” He handed the journal back to her.

“What about it was good? What did you like best?”

He sat forward. She clutched the journal in her grip, her life raft in the ocean. “I’m not a book critic or an editor.” She pressed, asking again. “You managed to encapsulate perfectly the yearn. Not just for love, but for life. The potential death of who you are for who you want to be. It feels real, Ruby. Authentic. You aren’t writing some cheesy love story here. You’re writing about life, real life and it just so happens that love takes hold during it.”

And by God, for the second time in twenty-four hours, she was crying. It was the silent kind, the gentle roll of tears down her cheeks. A few sniffles of the nose. Oh, hell, did he hate to see her cry.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He whispered, rolling his chair toward her. He took the journal and laid it next to her. He grabbed her hands, thumbing over the backs of them in circles. “What’d I say wrong? Is it-Was I wrong about it? Did I get the story wrong?”

She shook her head, sniffling again. “No, you said everything _right_. You got it, you understood perfectly.”

“Then why’re you crying? I’d think that’s a good thing.”

“No one knows I’m writing it, you know that. It’s only you.” He knew that. Not until recently, but he was aware. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted, to be a writer. To write books. Ones that mean something to at least someone. And you read it and you said all these things, things I’ve _dreamt_ of someone saying about my writing and now I know. I can do this. It’s worth it.”

Good tears. Thank God. He drew closer and kissed her knuckles. “You’re gonna change the world, Ruby Manning. One bestseller at a time.”

“All thanks to you.” She grinned lopsidedly.

Him? “Me?”

“Yeah.” She breathed. “You’re my inspiration. You push me to write and sometimes when I do, I think of you. You’re like my muse. My little writing muse.”

It would have been the perfect time to tell her that the song was about her. All six minutes of it. She had been the all-encompassing thought that resulted in a full song. The first one written for his new album. It would have been the perfect time to tell her that she meant more to him than a friend did. That his heart quickened upon the thought of her or the sound of her voice. That he struggled to form coherent thoughts around her. That he was pretty sure he was falling so hard, soon he would drown in it.

But, he didn’t. Instead, he asked about the rest of the book.

_Sunflowers_

_Sometimes_

_Keep it sweet in your memory_

_I was just tongue-tied_

“I think Blythe might actually be having a good time.” She giggled into his ear. One hand was gripping the neck of a beer bottle and the other holding her phone to record her friend.

Blythe was, per Ruby’s words, having what seemed to be a good time. Smiling, laughing, dancing around the floor with Mandy.

“Might wanna make sure the girl doesn’t have a fever.” Harry suggested.

A small smile graced Ruby’s lips. “She has fun sometimes…” At that, they both erupted in a fit of laughter.

Blythe was a right terrifying person when she wanted to be. But at the moment, she was no scarier than her roommate. Which was not at all. In order to ‘properly’ celebrate the finished recording of the first track on the new album, they’d all gone out to a club (generously suggested by Mandy, of course). His friends and her friends, together. Drinking. Having fun.

“Alyse says she’s sorry she couldn’t come.” Ruby was looking down at her phone, furiously typing away a response. “Again.”

“S’fine. She’s saving lives, being a real-life superhero.”

Ruby put her phone away. “They all like you. Even Blythe, though she doesn’t show it.”

“Mine like you too. Probably more than they do me.”

“Doubtful.” She took a long sip of her beer before throwing the empty bottle away. “Thanks for inviting us out. Not every day we get to hang out with celebrities.”

“We’ve been together a lot since I came in.” He pointed out.

“Trying to get my fill before you leave.”

His mouth opened, ready to tell her not to worry about that stuff, when Mandy started shouting for her in the midst of the crowd. She and Blythe were performing some kind of dance where they grinded against one another. Both their heads were thrown back in laughter and they were beckoning Ruby to them.

She was shaking her head.

“Go. Go dance.” He nudged her gently. She smirked, eyes glinting. “Oh, no. Absolutely not.” He shook his head.

“I’ll only go if you do. I know you’re hiding some moves from me.”

From behind him, he heard Mitch laugh. The guitarist’s arm slung over his shoulders. “Trust me, you don’t wanna see him dance. It’s a tragedy.”

Her smirk deepened. “Now you have to come! C’mon, H, m’begging!” She latched her hand to his, tugging. “Please!”

He sighed, shooting Mitch a deadly glare. “Only cause you’re beggin’.”

She squealed, her feet dancing up down. Mitch unwound his arm in time for her to drag him to the middle of the floor where her friends were dancing.

“Congrats again, rock star!” Blythe shouted at him over the music.

He nodded in thanks. He stood, hands in pockets. Blythe pulled Ruby towards them, sandwiching herself between her two friends. Ruby’s hand connected with Mandy’s over Blythe’s shoulder. He watched the three friends dance for a few minutes, all consumed with bright and smiling faces. It wasn’t long before Mandy’s attention was corrupted by a fellow nodding her over to join him. She glanced back at Blythe and Ruby.

“Go! I need a break anyway!” Blythe all but shoved her towards the man. Mandy, with a blessing, went happily. “I’m going for a water. Want one?” She asked Ruby.

Ruby shook her head. Blythe sent him a pitying look before wandering off in the direction of the bar. Ruby’s eyes were on him, glittering, scheming.

“Ruby…”

“Dance with me, H!”

“I’m not a dancer.”

“Neither am I!”

Which, to him, seemed like a lie. An honest one. She wasn’t trained by any means, that he could tell, but he also saw that she was no stranger to synchronizing the movement of her body to the beat of the music. She did it, and she did it well. She’d caught the attention of several people around them. Guys, eager eyes and hungry smiles. Girls, envious with down-turned mouths.

“Please?” Her hand outstretched, fingers wiggling at him. Eyes pleading, smile wide. Her movements stopped as she waited for his decision. “We’re celebrating tonight! Your song and our friendship!”

He wasn’t certain dancing had anything to do with celebrating. He was a singer, not a dancer. A guy walked towards her, slicking back his hair, tongue gliding over his bottom lip. Her head turned slightly in his direction. His stomach bubbled and action seized rational thought.

“Let’s dance.” Harry decided, sliding up next to her in the crowd. He shot the guy a look and watched him turn away. _Good_.

She looped her arms around his neck. “Are you mad I forced you to dance?”

“Not forcing me, love. S’an honor to dance with ya.”

“I’m really glad we’re friends, Harry.”

 _Friends._ His heart sank. He should’ve left her to dance with that guy. He’d had no reason to cut in and his own jealously- jealous, was he actually?- had come back to bite him in the ass.

“Me too.” He murmured.

It escaped him. The great cosmic deed he had to have pulled off in a past life to be awarded such a great one. A fantastic family, great friends, a successful career doing what he loved. Karma and all her friends were smiling down on him.

Lucky. Yes, he knew he was lucky. But there had to be more to it than just sheer, dumb luck. Right? Or was luck the basis of life as he knew it? Was luck the one to be thanked for his extra shot on X Factor, for his years with adoring fans and precious bandmates in One Direction, and the booming success of his solo career? Had Lady Luck done all that for him?

He couldn’t know. Not ever, not really. Perhaps there would never be an answer to that question. It would remain among the other thought-provoking inquiries that plagued his mind and the world for the rest of days.

“Where’s your head, lover boy?” Adam tossed a pen. The writing utensil smacked Harry in the neck. “Writing us another hit song up in that magic brain of yours?”

Harry caught the pen before it could fall to the floor. “You wish. Just thinking about life.”

Alex snickered. “Life? Thought you were a musician, not a philosopher.”

“What about life?” Clare leaned forward.

He shrugged. “Just how lucky we are. Look at us, doing what we love, getting paid for it, living the dream. It’s crazy to sit back and think about, yeah?”

Adam and Alex looked between each other.

Mitch rolled his eyes. “Easy cover-up. We all know you were daydreaming ‘bout your girl.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. Mitch remained relentless in his teasing antics, especially when Ruby was concerned. Not that he was wrong in the assumption that Harry liked her, because he wasn’t. In fact, none of them were wrong.

Harry liked her, but it didn’t need to be public business. He’d tell her (maybe) when he felt the time was right. If there was such a thing.

“Not my girl.” He grumbled. Reminding them all of the blurry barrier that restricted friendship from more grew exhausting.

“That’s getting kinda old.” Alex’s fingers drummed on the table. “You ever gonna tell her or just pine after her?”

“Why don’t you tell her tonight?” Sarah suggested. “You guys are getting dinner, right?”

He shrugged. “Maybe I should cancel? Stay in and try to write…”

Clare tossed a wad of paper at him. “Absolutely not! You’re going!”

“Why do you want to cancel?” Sarah asked.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. His eyes traveled around the sitting room of his hotel room. Sarah sandwiched between Adam and Mitch on the couch, Alex sprawled over the ottoman, and Clare sitting on the floor. “You don’t think I’m spending too much time with her?” His eyes drifted, meeting Sarah’s gaze. She understood. Perfectly so. “We’re together a lot.”

Sarah smiled, shaking her head. “No, Haz. You two’ve been friends for almost your whole lives and you’ve never met before last week.”

“It’s reasonable you’d want to see each other as much as possible before we go back to London.” Adam added.

Sarah raised an eyebrow but shot Harry a smile. “Exactly what I was going to say.”

“Just, for God’s sake,” Mitch was tossing a guitar pick up in the air, “don’t leave without telling her you like her. Or love her. Or whatever.”

Clare nodded. “I don’t usually agree with Rowland, but…what he said.”

_And I don’t wanna make you feel bad_

_But I’ve been trying hard not to talk to you_

_My sunflower (sunflower, sunflower)_

“What time do you want me tonight?”

“Huh?”

He chuckled and shook his head. Little daydreamer, she was turning out to be. “For dinner.” He clarified. “Are we still doing dinner tonight?”

“Yes! Yeah, I just-.”

“Forgot?”

She sighed through the phone. “No, I didn’t forget. I just- never mind. Can you be here at six?”

He glanced at the alarm clock by his bed. Two hours. “Yeah. You sure you don’t want me to come help? Not to brag, but I’m not half-bad in the kitchen.”

She breathed out her nose, a little laugh he noticed she made when slightly amused. “I’m sure. Next time, you’re cooking though.”

“Oh, next time?”

“Absolutely. Look, I’m gonna get off here and make sure I’m giving you the best meal to ever come from my kitchen. See you at six?”

“On the nose.”

“Be safe.” The phone clicked.

Now what was he going to do for two hours?

The first hour went by in a slow haze. A fixated mess of his eyes plastered to a sheet of paper. Words written only to be scratched over and then rewritten. Most of whatever song he’d been writing (trying to, at least) had been scrapped. All except what appeared to be the first verse. A couple incoherent thoughts muddled together to from some _sort_ of sense. Maybe. He wasn’t sure. He never really was until he sat with the finished product in his hands.

Sunflowers. Where the hell had sunflowers come from?

 _Don’t be daft and act like you don’t know_ , he told himself.

She liked sunflowers, they were her favorite flower. They made her happy, brought a dazzling smile to her face. He never wanted her to be unhappy, that much was simple.

By the time he decided the leftover words were a suitable first verse, it was five in the evening. Harry scrambled to redress, trading his lounge clothes for a printed tee and loose-legged jeans. Instead of rousing Craig and potentially bothering him, he opted for a cab. It was an arduous thirty-minute bout in Los Angeles rush hour traffic before he arrived at her building. Her flat was on the north side of the building, facing the street. Down on the end of the fifth floor, he could see her light on.

His stomach rumbled as he walked into the building. The lobby area was empty, and the lift deserted. A quiet few minutes spent humming experimental melodies for a new song as the lift rose to the fifth floor. The hallways of her building were small, making for close encounters between residents. He doubted any of them enjoyed that aspect of their tenancy.

Apartment 2D loomed before him. He’d been in on a couple different occasions, but something about this particular time felt different. Perhaps it was the intimacy of the occasion. A home-cooked meal between two friends. Where one friend felt a considerable deal more than friendship on his end. Yeah, that had to be it.

He knocked three times on the door. Loud and sharp, sure to be heard over the beat of the music flowing through the door.

“It’s open!”

He frowned. She was young, pretty (beautiful, actually, but not the point), single, and living alone. She shouldn’t traipse around with her door unlocked. Definitely not safe. Nevertheless, he pushed the door open and firmly shut it. He still didn’t recognize the song playing, but he swore he heard her name.

A putrid smell tickled the inside of his nostrils. Smoky and filthy, familiar but not yet placeable.

“You really shouldn’t leave the door unlocked.” He told her. “Any old person could just walk right in.”

Her laugh came from the kitchen, just off from the door. “You’re right. Some rock star just waltzed right in. Crazy world we’re living in.” He poked into the small kitchen. A yellow apron was tied round her neck and waist, protecting her dress from whatever she was cooking. It was pretty, her dress. Green with small white polka dots, down below her knees, white buttons all up the front, and little puff sleeves. She wore little brown slip-on sandals. Hair tied back in a bun that had turned more into a falling ponytail.

What struck him most was the item nestled in between her index and middle finger. Cigarette. Which explained the rotten smell burning his nose. “Didn’t know you smoked.”

She was eagle-eyeing whatever happened to be in the pot on the stove. “I don’t.” She didn’t look over from her food.

He cocked his head to the side and gestured to the cigarette. “Weird. You’ve got a lit cigarette there in your hand.”

She blinked, as if coming back to reality. Her eyes changed to the nicotine-pumped item. “Oh, right.” It wasn’t nearly down to the butt. It actually looked as if she’d lit it only just before his arrival. She held it over the sink and ran water over it before tossing it in the bin. “I just got off the phone with Elaine.” She picked up a wooden spoon and began to stir whatever was in the pot.

 _Elaine?_ Who was that? He’d never heard the name from her before. The way she spoke led him to believe this Elaine character was not on her good list.

The song changed. This one had a lovelier melody, older. _They say, Ruby, you’re like a dream…_

He recognized the stand-out voice of Ray Charles.

“Who’s Elaine again?” He asked, head bobbing to the music.

“She would be the woman I call Mom.”

Ah, the mother. The one he knew relatively nothing about. And only relatively because he knew her name was Elaine. And that was it. “Bad talk?”

“They’re all bad.” Dismissive. Conversation over.

He was learning her, slowly but surely. She didn’t like to be pushed into topics. She would open up when ready and no sooner. He had a feeling if he tried to force her open like some did oysters, he would not be rewarded with a pearl.

“M’sorry, angel.” What else was he to say? Asking for any more information seemed detrimental to his health.

She turned her head, smiling at him. “Don’t be. It’s a law of nature at this point in my life.” She tapped her phone and then looked back at him. “You’re early.”

That he was. “What’s the song?”

She leaned against the counter. “ _Ruby_ by Ray Charles.” There it was again, the little amused shot of breath from her nose. Not _nothing_ but not quite a laugh either.

“Full of yourself aren’t ya?” He grinned.

She laughed, short and muted. “Hardly. Come here.” She pushed off the sink and led him to the small table in front of the living room window. There was a black vinyl record spinning around a weathered yellow turntable. She picked up the pin and it slowed to a stop. There, on the label of the record, was her name in white lettering. _Ruby Jane_. “Gift from my dad for my fourteenth birthday. I always wanted a record player, we had all these old records in the garage but nothing to play them on. So…” She flourished her hand to the turntable. “He had a record made for me to go with it. It’s got all these songs on it that have my name. My favorite’s _I Got Love For You Ruby_ by Frank Valli. Dad sang it when I was little and couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t sing for shit, but I didn’t mind.”

Her finger grazed over the top of the record. Melancholia swept over her face. She laid the pin back and the music slowly resumed.

“He’d like you.” She murmured. “You remind me of him.”

He placed his hand over hers. “Can’t wait to meet him.”

She jerked her hand back. “Food should be done soon.” She all but high-tailed it back to the kitchen.

A major miscalculation on his part. Of what, he wasn’t sure. Family talk or affection? It had to be the lengthier than usual discussion of her family. Their hands wound up entwined too often. Right?

“What am I being treated to tonight?” He turned his back on the turntable.

She moved the pot from the hot burner. “Lemon pepper salmon on a bed of rice and a side of asparagus.” She leaned over and opened the stove, peeping in. A wide smile fell on her face. “Looks good. Really good.”

He chuckled. “You sound like a proper chef.”

She snorted, closing the stove. “Hardly.”

As the song progressed, she began to sway slowly around the kitchen. The skirt of her dress twirled around her legs with her movements.

“Dance with me.” He strolled to her, hand outstretched in offer.

“Ah, he _does_ dance.” She said, taking his hand.

She fit right in his arms. Arm curved around his neck, hand in his. His own arm snaked around her waist. It felt right, two puzzle pieces meant to fit to one another, and finally in their rightful spots. Her cheek rested against his, baby hairs tickling his neck.

“You know the song?” She asked softly.

“Think so.”

“Will you sing it? You’ve got a nice voice.”

He waited for the start of the next verse. “ _They say, Ruby, you’re like a flame/ into my life you came/ and though I should beware, still I just don’t care/ you thrill me so, I only know/ Ruby, it’s you…_ ”

Her eyes fluttered and he knew they were closed. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, angel.” And he meant it.

_I couldn’t want you anymore_

_Kiss in the kitchen like it’s a dance floor_

_I couldn’t want you anymore tonight_

When trying foods on him or introducing him to something she really liked, Ruby got a spark in her eyes. Fire on the ocean, consuming and wondrous.

The food on her own plate remained untouched. She was leaned forward with such an eagerness, one quick movement and she’d be on top of the small circular table. The food looked delicious and he had to ask himself why she hadn’t gone into culinary arts.

He was precise in cutting through the piece of fish, snagging rice on the fork, and then bringing the food to his mouth. The second it touched his tongue, he knew it was…wrong. The rice was mushy, in the way it got when extremely overcooked. The fish itself, while the seasoning saved it, was also overcooked. Firmly hard and dry, tasting almost like chalk would. He glanced at her and then nodded, smiling.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” She sat back, shoulders slumping. The little fire of curiosity in her eyes died promptly.

“What? No!” He said, adding more food onto his fork. “It’s really good, see?” He shoved the forkful of food into his mouth.

Good God, it was terrible. He nodded encouragingly as he chewed and swallowed his second bite.

She winced. “Okay, I lied.” She sighed, running her hands over her face. “I’m a terrible cook.” She eyed him straight. “I practiced this over and over and thought it would be fine but clearly food doesn’t have to just burn to taste bad.” 

Almost immediately, so quick he felt bad about it, he spit the food into his napkin. “Oh, thank God. I thought you didn’t know you were bad at cooking.”

“It’s a well-known and now completely accepted fact that I should not be in the kitchen.” She laughed. She stood up and grabbed both plates. “I’ll toss this, and we can order in. Wanna get the take-out menus from the drawer?”

He nodded, getting up from the table. She instructed him that the menus were in the second drawer from the fridge. She dumped the dinner contents in the trash bin as he made his way into the kitchen. The drawer of her take-out menus was chock full. Indian, Thai, a hibachi grill, Chinese, Mediterranean, several pizza parlors.

“I’m gonna run the trash down to the chute. You can pick the place since I nearly killed you with my lack of cooking skill.”

“Pizza okay?” He bustled out the handful of pizza parlor menus. There were at least six of them.

“Sounds great. DiMarco’s is good and not far, since you’re probably hungry. Get whatever as long as it doesn’t have anchovies or pepperoni.” He raised an eyebrow. _No pepperoni_? Was that not a base and well-renowned pizza topping? Didn’t everyone who wasn’t vegan or vegetarian revere pepperoni pizza? “H?”

She was standing in the doorway, fingers curled into the red ties of the trash bag. “Hmm?”

“Thanks for lying. About my food.” She smiled, a sweet-natured and shy smile. One he didn’t think people saw often from her. “Everyone else just says it isn’t good.”

If he said that didn’t break his heart a little, he’d be lying. “I’m not everyone else, love.”

She nodded once before turning out the door. As he called DiMarco’s Pie Parlor, he eyed the little yellow apron hung on the side of her fridge. There was a whiteboard stuck to the front of her fridge. Her own words littered the board, scripts of others mixed in. Her friends, no doubt. Little plastic magnetic alphabet letters were strewn across the fridge. As he ordered, he rearranged some to spell out _H was here_. Corny, but he had no doubts it would make her smile.

At the time he hung up the phone. (pizza promised in half an hour), there was a knock on the door. He frowned, pocketing his phone. There was _no way_ that was the pizza. Hands in pant pockets, he strolled over to the door and swung it open.

The visitor was a man of about forty or fifty. Dressed in a paramedic uniform, busying himself with finishing the buttons on the light blue shirt. “Ruby, hi-.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “She’s just gone to take the trash down.” Who was this man?

“Julius Costa. You must be her boyfriend.” He held his hand out. More confused than ever, Harry shook his hand. “I live down the hall.”

Neighbor. Costa. He vaguely remembered the name. If he recalled correctly, Mr. Costa lived five doors down and had three children.

“Mr. Costa?” Ruby re-appeared, hair no longer up. “Everything okay?”

The man took in her appearance and then glanced at Harry. “I’m really sorry to ask since it seems like you’ve got plans. I got called in and Amy- my sitter, you’ve met I think- can’t come tonight. Is there-?”

Ruby’s face lit up. “Yeah, of course I can. Absolutely.” Her eyes drifted over to Harry.

Mr. Costa seemed to catch her drift. “I trust you. I’ll bring them over as I’m leaving. I’ve got forty cash I can leave for dinner as well.”

She frowned, shaking her head firmly. “You don’t have to worry about that. We just ordered pizza. I’m sure there’s enough.”

Harry nodded. “Ordered two.”

“You’re sure?” Mr. Costa clarified.

“Absolutely.”

He mumbled another thank you before turning to go back to his own flat. Harry moved aside so she could step back in.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want.” She told him, going to wash her hands. “You didn’t sign up for bad food and kids.”

He shrugged. “Don’t mind. I like kids.”

The knock on the door came quickly. She opened it. “Hey guys!”

“Ruby!” The smallest, a girl of maybe five, squealed. She jumped into Ruby’s arms, squeezing her own around her neck.

“Hey, little lady.” She petted her hair.

Mr. Costa had his hands resting on the shoulders of the older two kids. A boy with wire-framed, square-rim glasses who was probably nine or ten and a girl with dark hair spun in a braid, eyes glued on a phone. “Elia’s already had her bath and all their homework is done. Lights out around nine-thirty or ten.”

Which, by looks on all their faces, seemed a very flexible time. Subject to change, easily.

“Got it. Be safe out there.” Ruby smiled again.

Mr. Costa nodded. “Should be back around six or seven in the morning. Thanks again.”

As he turned to leave, the other two kids walked inside, and Ruby shut the door. She placed the girl on her feet.

“All right. Pizza’s on the way. How about games and movies ‘til bedtime?” She squatted down to be face level with the youngest.

“Pizza!” The girl-Elia- clapped her hands. “What kind?”

Ruby looked up at Harry. Her eyebrow lifted.

“Got a cheese and then a jalapeno. Should be here soon.” He promised.

The older girl looked up from her phone. “Oh. My. God.”

It took six minutes to calm Marianna Costa down from the hysterics of meeting ‘her favorite singer _of all time_ ’, in her words. It took another ten minutes for her to put together a coherent speech. And by the time an hour passed, she was in a normal state of mind.

“So, what were you guys doing before Dad dropped us off?”

Harry laughed. “Well, Ruby cooked dinner-.”

“You actually _ate_ her food?” Marianna blinked. “You should probably go to the ER. Her cooking is dangerous.”

Ruby rolled her eyes as she handed Elia another slice of cheese pizza.

“It’s not that bad.” Leo argued. “She made really good mac and cheese once.”

“Leo, it was instant mac and cheese. Microwave.” Marianna shook her head.

Ruby ruffled the boy’s hair in an affectionate manner. “Thanks for sticking up for me, kid.” She smiled. “But that isn’t gonna stop me from kicking your butt at Uno.”

She was, in fact, schooling all of them in the card game. He couldn’t remember the last time he had just sat, relaxed, and played a silly little game. It was nice.

Near empty boxes of pizza, an animated film playing in the background. Elia was the only one paying attention to it.

The little girl was lounging comfortably in his lap, head against his shoulder. Her own cards were haphazardly held in her hand and had not been spared a thought in a while. Elia had wanted to play and Harry opted to be the one to assist her but the movie had quickly drawn her focus away.

“When we play Pictionary, you’re so going down.” Leo laughed at her.

She held her hands up sparingly. “Only because I can’t draw.”

“Can we watch _Cinderella_ next?” Elia looked up at him. “It’s my favorite.”

He glanced at Ruby. A silent question if she owned the movie. She gave a discreet nod and he looked back to Elia. “’Course we can. I like _Cinderella_ too.”

Her eyes glittered before she turned back to the television.

“Uno!” Ruby shouted.

Harry’s attention jerked back to the card game. She held one card in her hand. They had to play carefully. If it got back to her and she could discard it, she’d win. He shared a look with the two participating kids, one she didn’t catch. An agreement was made.

Leo drew a card and discarded. Mari- she liked this name over her full one- drew and discarded. Harry did the same. He drew, eyes lighting at the card he was given. He gave Mari a discreet nod before tossing it on the pile. _Draw 4_.

Ruby gawked at him. “You suck!” She half-laughed. She looked around at all of them. “Traitors, the whole group of you! I’ll remember this.”

_Wondering headshake_

_Tired eyes are the death of me_

_Mouth full of toothpaste_

_Before I got to know you_

A game of Uno, two rounds of Go Fish (for Elia’s sake), a tub of vanilla ice cream later, and one game of Pictionary later, he was spent. The credits of another animated film rolled on the television (he was sure it was the one about Rapunzel).

“We should do karaoke!” Mari shot up from her position on the couch.

“Oh, we should definitely not.” Leo’s head shook furiously. “You just wanna hear Harry sing.”

Ruby laughed, smiling over at him. “Since you’re the only one here who can sing, why don’t you give us a concert, rock star?”

He didn’t mind to sing. Not if she wanted him to. “You sure?”

Mari nodded. “Oh my God! A private concert from Harry Styles!”

He grinned. “Don’t go putting this on social media now.”

She crossed her heart and even tucked her phone under the couch cushion. Pure dedication. He got to his feet and passed a half-asleep Elia to her sister and brother on the couch. Elia nuzzled into Leo’s side, eyes drooping.

“Pick me a song?” He asked Ruby.

She hopped to her feet and plucked her phone off the coffee table. The Bluetooth speaker next to the turntable dinged, indicating her phone had connected to it. A few silent moments of anticipation passed before music began playing.

A light triangle/keyboard sound began in the building intro. Electric, before the drums and guitar kicked in. He recognized it immediately. _Everywhere_ , Fleetwood Mac. A favorite. Instrumental version, he hoped. He wasn’t too keen to sing over the great Stevie Nicks.

“ _Can you hear me calling/ out your name/ you know that I’m falling and I don’t know what to say/_ -.”

Mari’s voice interrupted him. “I don’t know this song.”

“ _What_?” The word came simultaneously from his mouth and Ruby’s.

The music paused.

“You don’t know Fleetwood Mac?” Ruby blinked. Mari shook her head. “You gotta come around more often. Can’t keep your taste exclusive to boy bands and their pop music ex-members.” She shot a teasing look at Harry.

He cocked an eyebrow. “All right then, angel face. I’ll remember that next time you want me to sing for ya.”

She stuck her tongue out.

“Way random but do you guys know how to dance?” Mari asked.

“’Course we do. Don’t we?” Ruby eyed him. He nodded. “Why’re you asking?”

Mari shrugged. “I’m supposed to go to a boy-girl birthday party at Janie’s next week but I don’t know how to slow dance.”

Wordlessly, Ruby pulled her to her feet. She was careful in dragging Leo off the couch, lest they wake the littlest one.

“Here.” She paired them together. “You guys just do what we do, okay?”

Leo frowned. Neither looked happy to be partnered with each other.

Harry reached his hand out and Ruby took it. He spun her into his arms. “We’ll show ya how it’s done.” He promised Mari.

Ruby began playing the song again. He wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her close, hers thrown around his shoulders. Much like earlier, their free hands were clasped together in the air. He sang the words softly as they swayed.

“See?” He called out. “Super easy. Just make sure his hands are…respectful.”

The two kids were mirroring their movements and position. Near perfectly, if he was being honest. Mari grinned lopsidedly. “Riight.” She stepped away from her brother. “You two look cute together.”

They both stilled. He looked down at his dance partner to find she was already looking up at him. There was a hint of a smile on her lips before she rested her head back on his shoulder.

“I’m tired. Aren’t you?” Mari nudged her brother.

Ruby pulled away, achingly fast. His arms fell to his sides. “You guys can sleep in my bed ‘til your dad comes. Come on.” She went and picked Elia up from the couch. The girl practically slumped in her arms. _Be right back_ , she mouthed as she walked past him, leading the kids into her bedroom.

He took up on the couch as he waited for her to return. Her words to the kids were lost in the distance, but he could hear the soft lull of her voice.

“Night.” Was all her heard before she padded out of her room. Light off, door cracked. She collapsed on the couch next to him. “Not so bad with your feet, Styles.”

He smirked. “Better than you.”

She looked scandalized. “That’s a lie and you know it! I am definitely a better dancer than you.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Her eyes narrowed with determination. Mouth set in a line. “Fine. Next time we’re out, I’m really gonna show you how much better am I than you.”

“Promise?” His head rested on the back of the couch. Eyes on her. “Can’t wait to see you embarrass yourself.”

It’s all a game. He knew that. So, did she. She was the better dancer of the two. It’s a fact already having been proven. She danced the way he sang.

“You’re such a dick.” She whispered with a smile.

“You love it.”

He stopped, couldn’t even blink or breathe. She stared back at him. He really needed to break his habit of putting his foot in his mouth. Especially when it came to her.

And then, she rolled her eyes. “You wish.”

Oh, did he ever.

It was late, impossibly so. Maybe late enough to be considered early morning. A promise had been made not to fall asleep until Mr. Costa arrived to retrieve his children. Which, according to the clock on her wall, would be in a few hours. All three of the children were blissfully asleep in her bed, while the two of them were struggling to stay awake on the couch.

Ruby was curled into his side, arm thrown over his midsection. A movie she liked was playing. An adaptation of a Jane Austen novel. _Emma_ , he believes. Gwyneth Paltrow starred as the leading character.

“You’re really good with kids.” It was an absent thought. One he hadn’t necessarily meant to verbalize.

He’d never really imagined her with kids. Granted, the occasion to do so had never really arisen. But she was, it seemed, a natural. The kids seemed to love her. Even Derry, a hard-headed teen girl, adored her. And she liked them back. She did well with them, letting show a rather childish side he hadn’t thought she possessed. It seemed almost…maternal at times.

Her fierce protection of Derry. The sweet way she ran her hands through Leo’s hair, how her voice lightened when speaking to Elia, the playful, bantering manner she engaged with Mari.

It sparked an interest from Harry. Their futures had never been the topic of discussion for them. Not future as it pertained to raising families. Only making music and writing books. Careers.

“They’re easier to be around than adults.” Her voice was groggy. Sleep sounded only a few slow blinks away.

“Do you want them someday?” He asked absently. For some reason, he _had_ to know. Maybe she did. Or maybe…maybe she didn’t.

He did. He really wanted kids. A big family, lots of kids running around. Pets too. Big house with lots of noise and love.

“Adults?” She looked up at him, her eyebrows furrowed together.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Kids, Ruby.” He elaborated his earlier inquiry.

She raised up, pulling away from him. She shrugged in response to the question. “Not sure, really. What about you?”

His answer was quick. “Yeah.” He affirmed with a swift nod of his head. “Wife, kids, pets. Want it all someday.” _Soon_ , he wanted to add. Her face contorted in displeasure. She turned away from him. “You don’t wanna get married some day and raise a family?”

He knew that was a possibility. With her, anything was. She was as impossible for him to read as a tablet carved in hieroglyphs. He’d known there was a chance she didn’t want a domestic life. He just hadn’t expected to feel so sad about it.

She snorted. “I don’t want to get married, no.”

“You don’t?” She shook her head, firm in her anti-matrimonial belief. “Why not?”

She brought her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on the small gap between them. Her arms wrapped around her shins. “What’s the point?” Bitterness, he recognized all too well. There was something there, in her reasoning. Something unspoken and hidden. An unshared secret. One he wanted to know but was reluctant to push on. “Why make it harder for someone to leave you?” She asked quietly. If they want to leave, just let ‘em go. No need to bring lawyers and paperwork into it.”

There was something else in her voice, buried deep beneath that seed of wretched bitterness. It reminded him of the look that crossed her face when talking about her dad.

“You’re gonna leave too. One day.” She continued on. “But you’ll come back. Won’t you?”

He wrapped his arm over her shoulders, pulling her into him once again. She let her legs fall and held her arm around him. “For you? Always.”

_I’ve got your face_

_Hung up high in the gallery_

_Out of this shade (sunflower, sunflower)_

It was sometime between six and seven in the morning when Mr. Costa came for his children. Harry was, somehow, still awake. Ruby had knocked out on the couch sometime before six and he let her rest. He roused Leo and Mari before picking up Elia. They were quiet on their way back through the living area and to the door.

“She asleep?” Mr. Costa inquired about Ruby.

Harry nodded, passing Elia to him. “Knocked out maybe an hour ago. She tried to stay up.”

Mr. Costa smiled, hoisted his daughter on his hip. “Thanks again for watching them. They were good, I hope?”

“Perfect kids.”

“I know she won’t take any money but,” he fished two American twenty notes from his pants pocket, “here’s forty dollars. Just hide it in her couch or something. That’s usually what I have the kids do.”

Harry was reluctant to take the money, but Mr. Costa pressed it into his hand.

“She deserves it. Hard worker.” He had to agree. “The kids really were good?”

“Absolutely.” Harry confirmed. “We played some games, watched some movies, taught Mari how to slow dance so she’d be ready Janie’s birthday party next week.”

Mr. Costa frowned. He glanced down at his half-asleep daughter. Mari’s eyes shot wide open. “Didn’t Janie move to Vermont last year?”

“Whoops.” Mari grinned. “My bad.”

Mr. Costa shook his head. “Tell her I said thanks again for watching them?”

“’Course.”

He ushered Leo down the hall towards their apartment. “Bye, Harry.” Mischief was all over the fourteen-year-old’s face.

“See ya.” He waved back before she turned to go after her family.

Sneaking kid.

He shut the door quietly and padded over to the couch. “Hey.” He spoke softly, gently nudging her.

“Go ‘way.”

He smiled. “Come on, let’s get you in bed.”

She groaned as he lifted her up from the couch. One of her arms fell limp in the air and the other feebly hung around him. He carried her to her bedroom, toeing open the door. He laid her on the bed, pulling the blankets up to her chest.

Her hand found his wrist, tugging weakly. “Stay with me. S’big room.”

He had every intention of sleeping on the couch. Really, he did.

“Please?”

That intention was thrown out with her sleep-dazed plea. He had a feeling she didn’t like sleeping alone. “All right.”

He kicked off his shoes and slid off his pants. Respectfully kept his shirt on. Climbed over her. He settled into the bed next to her. Close, but not touching. It was, he realized, a rather big bed. Enough room that neither of them were close to the edge, but still far enough to not be touching each other.

Which did not last long. It didn’t take a few silent moments before she was saddling into his side, spooning herself onto him. He lifted his arm and put it around her. She was warm, as always. Feeling like she’d just come in from hours in the sun.

“G’night, H.” Her words were mumbled against his chest.

“Goodnight, angel.”

_Your flowers just died_

_Plant new seeds in the melody_

_Let me inside, I wanna get to know you_

_I don’t wanna make you feel bad_

_But I’ve been trying hard not to act a fool_

_My sunflower (sunflower, sunflower)_

It was late in the day when he woke up. One or two in the afternoon. Ruby was still asleep next to him, face buried in her pillow, hair a hot mess.

His stomach rumbled. Food. He needed food.

She shifted, groaning. “Are you vacuuming?” Her voice was groggy, coated deep in sleep.

He chuckled. “That’s my stomach.”

“Turn it off.” She grumbled.

Her own stomach made a similar noise. When she raised up and looked over at him, he raised an eyebrow. “Turn that off, won’t ya?” He teased.

“M’hungry, I think.” She shifted again, laying on her back. “Time is it, anyway?” He reported that it was in the earlier part of the afternoon. “We slept all day?”

“Looks like.”

She frowned, looking around. “What time did he come get them?”

He said around seven. He debated on informing her of Mari’s scheme, the lie she had spun to get them to dance together. Rather quickly, he decided against it. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. “Want me to make you some breakfast?”

She shook her head before drawing up into a sitting position. “Let’s go to Waffle House. I really want some waffles.”

Completely convenient was the Waffle House, as it happened to be right down the block from her apartment. He’d worn his clothes from the previous day and all she’d thrown on was an oversized t-shirt that hung over athletic shorts.

Her hair had been tossed up in what could only be called a very messy bun. Glasses half on her nose.

The little restaurant wasn’t very busy in the mid-afternoon. It smelled of waffle batter, breakfast meats, and oil. A smell she seemed giddy to be inhaling. They slid into a booth in the back of the restaurant. She didn’t bother with a menu.

“Not looking?” He asked, eyebrow raised.

“Nope.” The ‘p’ popped as she said it. “Know what I want.”

He skimmed over the laminated menu before deciding on a platter that came with a waffle, eggs, a choice breakfast meat and something called grits. When the waitress came for their drinks, they both ordered coffees and waters. She went ahead and took their food orders as well. Surprisingly, Ruby ordered the same thing as he did.

“What’re grits?” He asked her as they put away their menus.

“Huh?”

“Grits.” He repeated. “Comes with the food. What is it?”

A breathless smile played across her face. It reached her eyes, sparking the light blue color into fractals of different shades. “It’s boiled cornmeal. I like it, but some people don’t. If you don’t, I’ll eat it.” A good set-up, he decides. “My Gran makes the best grits. You’ll have to try them.”

He met her eye as the waitress brought their drinks. In the short time they had been around one another, she’d never said anything about him meeting her family. And he’d never mentioned her meeting his own family. It had to be a given at some point, right? “You want me to meet your nan?”

She nodded as she put several small cups of creamer into her coffee. “I assumed you’d wanna meet my family at some point or another.”

“That means you have to meet mine.”

She smiled when she looked back at him. “Well, hell, I hope so.”

He took a delicate sip of his coffee. The drink was still hot, fresh from a new pot, or so it tasted. “All right, grits. You put hot sauce on ‘em?”

Her eyes widened. “No! That’s practically blasphemy.” She put her coffee cup down. “Grits are simple. You really only need two things to enhance the taste. Butter and sugar. I prefer both. I like mine sweet.”

“Then I’m letting you fix mine up for me.” He decided.

It was a few minutes later when the waitress arrived with their breakfast platters. Large, golden, fluffy waffles for each of them. Accompanied by two eggs cooked to order (both scrambled), a small bowl of what he assumed were the grits, and the meat. He himself had gotten turkey bacon and she had opted for sugar ham.

“Need anything else?” The waitress asked.

Ruby’s mouth opened but the words came from his mouth. “Could we get some hot sauce, please?”

“Be right back.” The waitress smiled.

Ruby was grinning back at him. “You know me so well.”

He shrugged. “I am your best friend.”

The waitress brought the red bottle of sauce and placed it on the table before heading back behind the counter. Ruby dashed bits of it all over her eggs.

“Okay, grits. You ready?” She asked as butter melted over the top of her waffle.

“Let’s do this.”

She leaned over and mixed his spoon around the bowl of mushy yellow food. “Two packets of sugar. Mix ‘em one at a time.” He watched as she performed her ministrations. She swirled the spoon around after dumping each packet of sugar into the food, making sure it was thoroughly mixed in. “Spoon of butter.” She opened one of the little butter containers and scooped it into the bowl. It began to melt upon impact, and she mixed it in. “Done.” She sat back in her own side of the booth.

“Now I eat it?” She nodded firmly. He trusted her taste in food a lot more than he trusted her ability to cook it. He was generous in getting a spoonful of the hot, liquidy substance before shoveling it in his mouth. The texture was unusual, almost like watery oatmeal, but it still had the gritted texture of the cornmeal. Probably why they were called grits. The butter added a little flavor to it, but the sugar did the most work. She had been right, they tasted good sweet.

“So?” She began cutting into her waffle. “What do you think?”

He was pleased. “Unfortunately,” he said after swallowing, “you won’t be eating these. I’m gonna keep ‘em.”

“That’s what I thought.” She had a look of haughty pride.

He was the reason for that face. He was the reason she was smiling like that. And that, more than anything, was sweet.

He had several texts from his mates. Was he okay, ever coming back, had he kissed her? Told her how he felt? And begrudgingly, he had answered all of them. Yes, maybe, no, no.

“Aw, no.” She moaned from the kitchen.

“What’s the matter?” He looked up from his position on the couch.

She was fingering with the cup of flowers on the counter. The sunflowers were in a bad way. Shriveling, dried up. Petals breaking off one by one. “My flowers are dying.” A hard frown was etched on her face. Absolutely devastated, she looked.

“I’ll bring ya new ones tomorrow.” He assured her.

Her expression lifted. “You don’t have to. Then, you’d just be buying me flowers every so often.”

He said he didn’t mind as she rejoined him on the couch. Her legs curled under her as he un-paused the movie. “Supposed to buy girls flowers anyway.”

“You’re supposed to buy your girlfriends flowers. Not your friends that are girls.”

The distinct difference, so coolly pointed out, made his chest ache. Friends. They were friends. He had to keep reminding himself of that fact.

“Same difference.” He said.

She arched an eyebrow. “Try explaining that one to your next girlfriend, bud. Sure she’ll love it.”

Unless his next girlfriend was her, there would be no explanation. He was positive no one else could ever make his heart quicken the way she did. Could make him feel as elated and overwhelmed with pure happiness. He’d never settle for anything else, anyone else.

He knew no one was perfect, but she was damn near close.

_I couldn’t want you anymore_

_Kiss in the kitchen like it’s a dance floor_

_I couldn’t want you anymore tonight_

_I couldn’t want you anymore_

_Kids in the kitchen listen to dancehall_

_I couldn’t want you anymore tonight_

Inspiration tended to overtake him at the most inconvenient of times. The muse in question, a sweet little thing named Ruby Manning, was spread over her couch. On her stomach, head propped up on the palm of her hand, feet up in the air and crossed over. Her glasses had fallen down to the gently swoop of her nose. Eyes glistened over in steeled concentration. In her other hand, a book. _Anna Karenina_. She looked to be near finished with it. A sweet place between the middle and the end.

There was a fresh bouquet of sunflowers on the coffee table. In a proper vase and everything. Curtesy of their quick stop into the supermarket after their late breakfast. Light rays of sun were streaming in through the window. She’d opened it upon their return and pushed back the thinly made white curtains. The light crossed over the room and threw golden shades over her face.

 _Beautiful, absolutely beautiful_.

That is the moment inspiration strikes. Or possibly, it’s been building up. He has been in her presence for almost a full twenty-four hours. The time hasn’t gone by when words turn to lyrics in his head or one of her movements sweeps over into a melody he’s conjured up. Both, he decided, it was both.

“Got a pen and paper?” He asked.

Her head didn’t lift from the book. “Third drawer by the sink.”

He was quick in retrieving his needed items and placing himself back at the little table. He uncapped the pen and rearranged the first verse he had spit out the previous day. Moved some of the words around a little. _There, much better_.

Words flowed from his brain and through the pen onto paper. Sweet memories laid out for him to recall fondly and then immortalize into song lyrics. The gentle sway of their bodies in her kitchen as they danced to a song gifted jointly by Ray Charles and her father. The unyielding yearn he almost always felt in wanting to kiss her, just once. Just to make sure she was real and not some ethereal being he had made up. The old and decayed bunch of flowers still on her kitchen counter and the new ones breathing life and pieces of her happiness. Golden rays of sun splayed over her face as she lounged on her couch, committed fully to a book of unrequited romance. The walls, sturdy built and unwavering, she put up when anything about her family came up. The need to push inside and know her more washed over by relentless respect for her boundaries and the knowledge that in time, she would let him know her fully. (Or so he could only hope).

Her.

He wanted her so bad. He knew that. He’d known for a while. To be more than her best friend, the person she could call anytime for any reason, to share good news and bad. Make her smile, be the reason for her laugh. Hold her in his arms all night, every night.

But he knew it wasn’t right. They were friends, solidly so. That was all she saw him as and he needed to get that message through his thick skull once and for all. He just couldn’t help that he was so sweet on her. Or that her voice made his head go fuzzy. Or that the feel of her cuddled next to him made his heart skip and skip.

There was a line and he had to be cautious not to cross it. If he wasn’t, if he stepped over, he could lose her. And he didn’t want that. That was a worst-case scenario for him. Absolute worst-case. Over fourteen years, she’d been something constant and true in his life. The one stability in the craziness of it all. He couldn’t lose her.

“What are you writing?” Her voice startled him.

He nearly dropped his pen before looking at her. Her eyes were still trained on her book but upon sensing his gaze, she lifted her own to look back at him. “Hmm?”

She changed her position to sit up on the bottom of her legs. She slid a bookmark between her pages and put the book on the coffee table. She motioned to the pen and notepad. “Are you working on a new song?” All he could do was nod. “’Bout what?”

He stilled. Now, he hadn’t told her yet that the first one was about her. He certainly wasn’t going to tell her this one was too. No doubt it would freak her out. “Not sure yet. Just had some ideas wanted to jot down before I forgot.”

She nodded empathetically, slowly. “Can I see?” Eyebrows raised, bottom lip worried between her teeth. Eager, overly so.

He let his face do all the talking. A sad, but sympathetic downturn of his mouth. A crease of his brow. He didn’t trust his own words. One wrong move and he’d be professing his love for her at her kitchen-.

_Wait._

_Love?_

Love. Surely not. Maybe. Possibly. Could he? Could he love her? Could he actually be in love with her? It’s a possibility he’s never truly entertained, not with any seriousness, that is. He has always known he felt _something_ for her. Especially after meeting her. It was more than a friend felt for another friend, that was certain. But was it as strong as love?

It was a heavy accusation to burden himself with. Not necessarily unwelcome, but definitely frightening. He couldn’t even tell her that he liked her, there was no way he was saying the other L word any time soon.

“Ah, right.” She sighed, bringing him out of his head. “Not ‘til it’s finished, then?” She asked as she picked up her book.

“Not a second before.” He confirmed.

She smiled slyly. “Keep your secret then, rock star.”

He would. And for as long as he needed to.

_Sunflower_

_My eyes_

_Want you more than a melody_

_Let me inside_

_Wish I could get to know you_

A text that came through at eight p.m. Cryptic in its nature.

 **Wanna go somewhere?** 8:01 p.m.

It hadn’t taken a minute before he was responding with an affirmative answer. He didn’t even bother to ask where they were headed so late in the evening.

Which was how he ended up pushing a shopping trolley in the supermarket. The trolley was already beginning to fill with random snack items. Variety packs of crisps, Pizza Rolls, bread, random things she saw and tossed in.

“Oh, I love these!” She squealed, near running down the aisle. He was leisurely on his journey to join her at the end of the aisle. She had a blue box of honey-flavored biscuits clutched in her hand. _Teddy Grahams,_ the box read. She tossed two boxes into the trolley.

“Do you ever eat anything good for you?” He asked her once they continued on.

“Occasionally. I’d rather be happy eating what I like than eating foods I don’t just to seem fit.”

He stopped as she paused to consider which brand of almond milk she wanted. “But you are fit.” He frowned.

As she reached for a brightly labeled carton, she glanced back at him. “Hardly. I don’t ever go to the gym anymore. When we were in college, Blythe used to always drag us to group fitness classes. We went once a week for years.” She placed the carton in the cart.

Damn language barrier. The British meaning of fit was wildly different than the American meaning. Her definition was ‘in-shape’. His was…not.

“Still look good.” He mumbled.

She looked back at him, brow furrowed down. “Harry-.”

“Ruby?” A new voice. One he doesn’t quite recognize.

Her eyes widened and she spun around. “Max?”

 _Max_. Max Cauffield. Worked in publishing. Subject of a date that he’d never heard much information on. And then, there he was. Harry had to admit, Max Cauffield was attractive. Ink black hair, clear skin with no sign of facial hair, inquisitive eyes. A sharp nose centered on his symmetrically planed face.

Harry knew that he himself was someone to be considered handsome. He would be the first to admit that he was good-looking, there was no denying a truth so plain as day. Not that he was vain about it, because he wasn’t. He didn’t get off thinking about how nice he looked. But this…this man in front of him. Max Cauffield was a looker.

And dear God, did Harry’s ego take a hit at that. He hardly ever felt inferior in the physical department to other men, but there he was in the aisle of a supermarket at nine p.m., comparing himself to a man his best friend had gone on one date with. One date! One!

The problem here was, for Harry, that if Ruby thought he was good-looking, what the bloody hell did she think of Max?

“It’s good to see you. I thought maybe after I never heard back after our date that-.” Max was saying.

Never heard back. She’d never called him after? Not even texted? What a heartbreaker she was turning out to be.

“Oh, my God!” Ruby’s cheeks flamed red. “I’m _so_ sorry. I completely blanked and- and I sound like a total bitch now, don’t I?”

It was like he had faded from existence. He no longer mattered in her world. And how could he blame her when she had God’s gift to humanity standing there with a bottle of wine in his hand?

“A little bit.” Max laughed. “No worries, though.”

She shook her head, light hair swirling around her shoulders. “I have such an explanation, I swear.”

Max smiled at her. “Your boss’ daughter. She called, did everything turn out all right?”

Derry. How had he remembered something that happened weeks ago? Harry remembered. Then again, he tended to remember everything she said to him.

“Oh!” Ruby gasped. “Yeah, she was fine. A opossum got in the store and-.”

“A opossum?”

“Yes! It was crazy. And then Harry-.”

His head jerked up. He tore his eyes from the box of _Teddy Grahams_. They were both looking at him. He smiled half-heartedly.

“Harry came in from London and we’ve been hanging out a lot. We’ve been friends most our lives.” She grinned over at him. Harry nodded as best he could. “It’s so weird, we’d never met before a couple weeks ago and now we’re practically inseparable.”

Okay, at that, he would be honest, his heart picked back up. The assuring smile. The glitter of her eyes.

“Just met? I thought you’ve been friends forever?” Max asked cautiously. Accusingly. 

“Yeah, right.” Ruby nodded along. “It’s funny, we met through a pen pal program when-.”

Harry cleared his throat, loudly. They both looked at him. Max looked almost…amused.

He couldn’t help his interruption. “Sorry.” He muttered. “Got a text.” He pulled his phone out. He did, in fact, have a text. So, it wasn’t a lie. Just a reminder from Jeff that they’d be in the studio tomorrow, trying to come up with something new. Which he just so happened to have.

“Everything okay?”

“Y-Yeah. Just Jeff. Got an early day tomorrow.”

“Shit, it’s late, isn’t it?” Ruby checked her own phone. She looked over at Max. “It was really good to see you. We should probably get going. Someone,” she shot Harry a playful look, “has work early tomorrow.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Work? What do you do?”

“I’m a musician.” Harry said.

“He’s a singer!” Ruby was eager, to brag on him it seemed. “He sings.”

“Like in a boy band or something?”

The comment, something that passed right over Ruby’s sweet little head, burned. Dug under his skin and burrowed deep. He was _not_ ashamed of his days in One Direction. He was incredibly grateful for them and very often found himself missing it. He was pissed because this…man had made it sound so degrading and stupid.

Harry breathed out forcefully through his nose. “Used to. I’m solo now.”

Max looked something close to impressed. “Cool. Well, I should let you guys go.” He adjusted his hold on the neck of the wine bottle. “I’ll give you a call, sometime?” He asked Ruby. “Given no more opossum incidents occur.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Ruby smiled.

Max nodded in his direction. “Nice meeting you.”

“Mhm. You too.” Harry managed. He fought a frown as Max walked away. He swallowed down his anger and looked at Ruby. “Nice guy.”

“Guess so.” She shrugged. “We should really go, especially if you need to be up early in the morning.”

“Nah.” He told her. “My sleep can wait. I need to make sure you get some foods that aren’t doused in sugar and corn syrup.”

She walked around to the front of the trolley where he stood. “Fine.” She relented. “But,” there was a sneaking smile on her face, “only if we can get ice cream on the way back.”

He slung his arm over her shoulders, pulling her close. “You wouldn’t be so cute without any teeth, you know.” He chuckled.

She cocked an eyebrow as she looked up at him. The corner of her mouth dug into an edging smirk. “Would I still look fit?” And then she was gone, rushing down the aisle towards the frozen sections.

Ah, hell. He was right fucked.

_Sunflowers just died_

_Keep it sweet in your memory_

_I’m still tongue-tied_

_Sunflower, sunflower_

_Sunflower, sunflower_

_Sunflower, sunflower_


	8. Eight: I Should've Kissed You- Ruby//July 22

_I keep playing it inside my head_

_All that you said to me_

_I lie awake just to convince myself_

_This wasn't just a dream_

"So," Mandy's word was long and drawn out as she leaned against the counter, "gonna see your boyfriend today?"

Ruby glanced up from the final pages of _Anna Karenina_. "Wasn't aware I had one." She mumbled before turning back to the book. She only had a handful of pages left and the storyline had really picked up near the end.

Mandy had joined her at work, bringing a late lunch from the sub shop on Mandarin Drive. Mandy was still snacking on her bag of oven-baked potato chips while flipping through a tabloid. She was the only one who appreciated Ruby's love affair with the trashy gossip flip-throughs.

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Right. We're gonna play this game, then?"

"What game?" It was clear that she'd get no further in the book. Her friend was in the mood for a discussion that she wasn't sure she wanted to have. Then or ever. Because she knew exactly the person Mandy was talking about.

Harry. Harry who was not just her near lifelong pen pal and best friend, but who also happened to be a world-famous rock star. Harry who she happened to have feelings for.

There had been several occasions where she had nearly come clean about her feelings towards him and how she cared about him as more than a friend. And several times, she had shut herself down. Because he was Harry. _Harry Styles_. There were so many bumps and bruises on that path that she couldn't even dare to think of going down it. Not without making herself sick to her stomach with worry.

And yet, there had also been several instances where he seemed to be showing the same interest. Lingering stares, touches that last just a smidge too long to be platonic, the dancing in her kitchen had felt _romantic_ , the way he called her pet names like _love_ and _angel_ , how he called her Ruby Jane with a dazzling smile, cute dimple in tow. He called her beautiful, more times than she could count. He was always quick to compliment her appearance and make sure she knew she looked good. And the supermarket, dear God the supermarket! The awkward run in with Max (whom she still had yet to call back). The two men had been coolly cordial with one another. It was almost funny to think back on.

"Where's the rock star at today, anyway?" Mandy smoothed the topic over. "Your phone's been awful quiet today."

Reflexively, she glanced over at her phone. The screen was black. She tapped on it, lighting it up. No notifications. It would be a lie to say her heart didn't sink a little. But she knew he was busy. And it wasn't like they hadn't spoken on the phone that morning as they prepared for their days. "Studio, I think." She knew.

He had been excited to record a new song he'd conjured up. One she would love, he had been so sure. She was sure as well. More of him than the song because she knew she would love anything he wrote. His voice made anything sound beautiful.

"What're his songs really about, you think?" Mandy's eyes skimmed over an article about Angelina, Brad, and Jennifer. "Or _who're_ they about."

Their eyes met.

She couldn't say she hadn't wondered that same thing. Where his inspiration came from. _Who_ it came from. Harry had a healthy list of ex-girlfriends (all of the famous and beautiful variety, but that's another story). He had never explicitly said what his songs were about, and she had never asked. That seemed way too personal a question, even if they were as close as they were. She wasn't too keen to hear he still thought of them enough to churn out new songs for them.

The two had yet to have any sort of conversation centered around past relationships. His were public, hers were...non-existent. That wasn't to say she'd never had a boyfriend, because she very well had. Although, Max Cauffield was the closest thing to one she'd had in a while.

"Dunno." Ruby answered. She desperately wanted to talk about something else. And if there was one thing Mandy loved to talk about more than anything, it was a certain tall, dark, and handsome. "So, when's your date with Russ?"

Mandy's eyes practically lit on fire. She swished the tabloid across the counter. "Tonight! Blythe lent me this super-stunning dress, it's really fancy."

"Where's he taking you?"

"He said it's a surprise! How romantic is that? Ugh, you know, I can't remember the last time a guy actually planned something and took me out."

Ruby laughed. "Probably because the last guy you had any sort of relationship with you met at a Dave and Buster's and still lived with his parents."

Mandy's brow deepened. "He was working on a start-up!"

"He was thirty-five."

Mandy relented and fizzed into a fit of giggles. "You think Weimar really likes me?"

Ruby liked Russ Weimar, which said a lot because she typically found Chip's friends to be annoying (see one Fresno Fletcher). Russ was nice. Had his life put together, good job, steady income. A _nice_ guy. Which was exactly what Mandy needed in her life. The only concern was that Russ had never had a serious relationship in the time she had known him. He had girlfriends, but never _girlfriends_.

"Yeah." She finally said. "I do." She decided against repeating the comment from his birthday party about how he was looking for his wife. She didn't think Mandy's poor heart would survive it. "But for the love of God, call him Russ. Remind him you're a gorgeous and amazing girl and not one of his Coors chugging fraternity brothers from the good ole days."

Mandy broke out in a grin before they collapsed in laughter.

_Cause you were right here_

_And I should've taken the chance_

_But I got so scared_

_And I lost the moment again_

Work post-lunch was nothing to write home about. In fact, it was a rather dull day, excluding Mandy's hour appearance. Only a handful of customers had ventured into the store and of those, only a few had made purchases. The day had mostly consisted of Ruby wiping down shelves and making sure none of the books were getting too musty.

And checking her phone what seemed like every ten minutes. And each time, nothing. Worry ate away at her and she tried her best to convince her wrought-out brain that he wasn't ignoring her. He was _busy_! Doing his job, for Christ's sake.

_But he's never taken so long to respond..._

She shook her head, effectively (hopefully, anyway) burying those damn thoughts.

It was a quarter to six and she had already posted the **Sorry, We're Closed** sign on the door. Foot traffic hadn't been heavy, and she hardly expected it to pick up in the last fifteen minutes. A beautifully silent time that she would utilize to finish her book.

A worrisome part of the book, the end. Anything could happen. Anything at all could occur in the last few pages that would either everything up neatly or completely dismantle it. She preferred the former option every time. The book drove her crazy. There was a nice and happy ending in sight for Levin and Kitty, but the future seemed more than uncertain where Anna and Count Vronsky were concerned. They were together, but Anna was suspect that Vronsky was courting an affair with the younger Princess Sorokina (this of which Ruby was certain of his absolute innocence).

Her mind flared and raced, devouring the words of Tolstoy and the enrapturing tale as the penultimate last part of the book drew to a close. Her heart had slowed considerably in her chest and uneasiness drew upon her as she reached a page not quite filled. Her eyes blinked and tears fell as she processed the end of Anna and Vronsky's love.

_"The candle, by the light of which she had been reading that book filled with anxieties, deceptions, grief, and evil, flared up with a brighter light, lit up for her all that had before been dark, crackled, began to flicker, and went out forever."_

She slumped on the stool. One hand pressed down on the pages of the book and the other cupped over her mouth. Her cheeks were damp with tears and her eyes burning with the threat of more. Quietly, she closed the book and stuffed it into her bag. At that point, with such a chapter ending as that, she wasn't quite sure she wanted to finish the book. She had never quit one before (unless textbooks counted, then she had quit a many), but such a shattering passage left her despondent to anything else the book had to offer.

It was then that she noticed the figure standing outside the door. As she was fumbling to get her keys from her bag in order to lock up. She frowned, although it was hard to not know who waited for her outside the door.

Did they have plans? She didn't think so, then again, her mind was far from working properly.

He himself was frowning as well. She crossed the store, bag slung over her shoulder, and stepped outside. It was still swelteringly warm out and her skin instantly began to clam over.

"Something wrong?" She noted his expression as she locked the door.

"I think I should be asking you that."

Embarrassed, cheeks hot, she realized she was still crying. This made the...third (she thought) time he had already seen her cry. "Oh." She laughed quietly, wiping her face. "I'm fine."

"Are ya?" Harry arched a brow. "Looks to me like you've been crying."

"Only a little." She admitted, beginning to walk. He, however, stayed rooted to his spot outside the store. She glanced back. "H?"

"Not even gonna talk about what made ya so upset? I need to talk to somebody?"

She smiled softly, shaking her head. "Not unless you wanna go digging up graves in Russia." She reached her hand back and wiggled her fingers, flicking her head forward. He walked slowly as he caught up to her. She wrapped her arm around his. "I'm really close to being finished with _Anna Karenina_ and I left off in a really sad spot."

"What happened?"

She rested her head on his shoulder. He smelled good. He always smelled good. Ever present Tom Ford cologne mixed with...something else she couldn't quite place. Perhaps his soap, whatever he used. "Anna died. She threw herself under a train. All because she thought Vronsky was cheating on her. How..." She broke off, drawing to a stop. Harry paused and watched her. "How _horrible_ is that? It's _awful_ , Harry! She gave up everything to be with him, and I mean everything, all because she loved him! And then it all began to unravel and fade away and she really saw suicide as her only option, and she did it. But the sad thing, oh God, the worst was that she's laying there waiting for her death and she begins to regret it. And then she's gone."

He was watching her, just standing there. Face passive, waiting for her to continue on, with either her words or her steps. "Are you all right?" He questioned.

"No." She sighed. "I don't think so." He asked if she wanted to talk about it. "Not right now." Her eyes slid over to him as they walked on. "Did we have plans?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Then why were you waiting for me? I thought you'd be busy working on your song."

He stared back at her. Mouth drawn up, brows pulled together. Eyes, what a lovely shade of green, dark with perplexity. "Hadn't heard from you all day. S'it okay to check in on ya when I get worried?"

She laughed shortly. "Harry, I haven't heard from _you_ all day." Quieter, she added, "Thought you might be ignoring me. I texted you when I got to work."

He frowned and pulled his from his back pocket. "Don't have a message from ya. Sure you sent it?"

Of course, she was sure. Well. Was she? She drew her arm from his and dug around in her bag, producing her phone. She went to her messages.

"Huh." She chewed on the inside of her cheek. It was all typed up and ready to go, but she'd never hit the send arrow. "My bad."

He had a shit-eating grin on his face. "Silly girl." He pulled her back to him. "Wanna stay at mine tonight? Got something for ya."

At his-in his hotel room? His fancy, expensive hotel. A room that was one of the best money could buy. And she'd...she'd be in it? So out of place and wrong. But he was asking, and he was so hard to say no to. "Well I guess that depends on what it is because if it's a gift, I'm saying no. But if it's pizza, I'm saying yes."

His hand squeezed against her upper arm. She swallowed before stealing a glance at him. He was looking at her already with those damn eyes. "We'll call it pizza then. I'll have Craig pick us up at your place so you can get whatever you need."

"If it's a present, I'm kicking your ass."

"Better put a helmet on, then, hadn't I?"

_It's all that I can think about_

_You're all that I can think about_

"Holy. Shit."

Ruby had known Harry was staying at the Sunset Marquis down in West Hollywood. But what she hadn't known was how absolutely insane it would be. Like any other normal person, she had assumed that her friend and his own friends would be occupying suites within the hotel. And well, you know what they say about making assumptions.

The group of seven had rented out a group of villas that were all close and connected to one another. Harry was staying in his own private villa while the others were two-to-one, but close by. His villa was bigger than her entire apartment (probably hers and Alyse's put together). It came with a full-size kitchen, the nicest bathroom she'd ever seen, a living area complete with a fireplace and huge flat-screen, and a balcony. There was even a grand piano, a lot nicer of an instrument than she had practiced on when she was younger.

She turned to look at Harry. She was very well aware that her eyes were wide and probably had a little piece of spit hanging from her mouth. Okay, maybe not the drool, but still. "You stay in places like this all the time?" She asked, running a hand over the piano

He shrugged. "Yeah, guess so."

"You're so lucky." She breathed.

"Why? Cause I got a beautiful girl in my room?"

Her cheeks warmed. Stomach lurching, her heart quickened. Why did he have to say things like that? "Don't be cheeky." She warned. "I'm serious," she continued, "you're living your dream right now! You get to write your songs, perform them in front of people who adore you, all while traveling the world."

"Yeah, I know you're right and I did get really lucky." He mumbled.

She sat down at the piano bench and lifted the key cover back. "Do you miss your family a lot?"

He sat down next to her and watched as her fingers grazed over the keys. "All the time. You?"

Her family. She couldn't stop the grimace from showing up on her face. "Yeah."

"Even your mum?"

"Sometimes." She admitted. Very rarely, once in a blue moon. More than likely, she missed who she wanted her mom to be. "I miss my Gran a lot. We had to put her in a home right before I moved here for school. She's really feisty and hard-headed."

"Sounds familiar." Harry teased, nudging her with his elbow. She rolled her eyes. "You play?" He gestured to the piano.

"Hardly." She pressed down on the closest _D_ key. "I took lessons in elementary school. Just long enough to learn _Happy Birthday_."

A choked laugh came from him. "Why that one?"

"I had this huge crush on this kid, Ryden Carlisle. He was like, crazy good at playing piano. We were in fifth grade and I decided I wanted to learn so I could knock his socks off. And of course, I thought that if I played _Happy Birthday_ for him during our class birthday party, he'd fall madly in love with me."

"How'd that work out for ya?"

She let her fingers skim over the keys. Light sounding notes filled the air. "Well, I'm sitting here with you and not Ryden Carlisle so...pretty good, I think."

"I'm getting the feeling you're a heartbreaker, Ruby Jane."

Heartbreaker? _Her_? She snorted and then shook her head. "You couldn't be more wrong." She looked around, desperate to change the subject away from hearts being broken. "Now, where's this _pizza_ I was promised?"

The green of his eyes lit with an excited spark. He jumped up from the bench and grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet. He led her over to the couch and made her sit down. His guitar was leaned up against the unlit fireplace. She watched as he picked it up and held it properly in his hands.

"What're you-?"

"Shh." He shushed her, sliding the guitar pick into his hands.

She got comfortable, pulling her feet up under her. She let her hands fall in her lap. He began to strum softly, and she couldn't help but feel as if the melody was familiar. Was that...?

" _Who's gonna tell you when/ it's too late/ Who's gonna tell you things/ aren't so great."_

The song. Her favorite song.

There was no special meaning behind the song. No brilliant memory to prop up around it. Just a song she'd heard on the radio one day years ago and become enamored with. She actually was sure it was the only song by The Cars that she actively listened to.

" _You can't go on/ thinking nothing's wrong, ohhh no/ who's gonna drive you home/ tonight?_ "

She had probably spent hours of her life listening to _Drive_. It was one of those songs she knew deep in her soul and would recognize anywhere. But this...having Harry in front of her, serenading the lyrics to her favorite song...her stomach had never done so many flips and cartwheels before. This was a feeling she had never experienced before.

His voice was something crafted from heavenly hands. No normal human had a voice so delicate yet strong. No other musician's voice sent rolls of shivers down her spine or waves of heat through her stomach. So, either Harry was the best singer in the world (an opinion she was extremely biased on) or her feelings were stronger than she realized.

She liked the first option.

Ruby sat back and tried to just _listen_. She did her best not to focus on the curvature of his lips as he sang or the small curl that had flopped down onto his forehead, the little mole that sat diagonal between the corner of his mouth and jaw. How his arm flexed as he strummed over the strings of the guitar. Fingers, long and strong.

Heat pooled in the bottom of her stomach. Damn, she hated herself.

She didn't realize that he had stopped singing until their eyes met. He was staring at her with soft green eyes and half a smile. "D'you like it...?"

She nodded slowly, wrapping her arms around herself. She blinked back tears in the effort of keeping them from falling.

"I thought-I thought you liked the song...?" He placed the guitar back on its stand. "You said it was your favorite once and I thought that-."

"It is my favorite song." She assured him. "Even more now. It was so sweet, really. I just..." She just really wanted to kiss him. Ruby really wanted to kiss her best friend.

No guy had ever been so kind and sweet towards her. And she was having a hard time discerning his kindness for other feelings.

_Just because you like him does not mean he likes you. You're friends and that's all to him._

"Just what?" He crossed over to sit beside her. "Still sad about the book?"

No, not entirely. Though, the entire tragedy of Anna's ending had stirred something inside her. She had always adored the idea of love. It was something that seemed so...perfect in itself. Love was the strongest force on earth. It could conquer all. But that, that therein was the problem, wasn't it? She had always thought love was stronger than anything. That having someone to love you so much meant the world.

But then Anna killed herself. All over the concern than her love no longer loved her. And dear Jesus, that was something she had never much considered. Which, given her mother, how could it have slipped her mind?

Harry's hand rested on her bare knee. "Ruby?"

She looked up at him. Why did her name have to sound so good coming from his lips? She let her arms fall from around her. The tears had never fallen (bless everything holy) and had promptly dried up. "I'm kind of obsessed with the idea of love, did you know that? Or, the girls call it an obsession. I like to imagine it's more of a fascination."

"I did not." He answered.

"Always have. Love stories have always been my favorites. And in most of my books and the movies, they make it like a fantasy. Something you want to happen to you so bad because the characters are so happy and crazy in love. But that's what it is, isn't it? A fantasy." She heaved a sigh and leaned against the back of the couch. "Because I just...I can't believe that someone can pours everything that they are completely and totally into another person because they want them and love them so deeply. And that the other person feels the same way."

"Why? What's wrong with believing in a love like that?"

She shot forward. "Because, Harry, it goes away! It leaves! There's someone who's promised you everything and you've given them your heart to hold and keep safe. You trust them completely and then...it's gone. The same someone who was supposed to love you forever can just as quickly fall out of love with you as they fell in love with you. That scares the absolute hell out of me." She ran her hands through her hair and then looked over at him. "Doesn't that terrify you?"

Very quickly, and way too calm, he said no. She asked why. "It isn't real. If that person can just fall out of love, it wasn't real love. When you really love someone, when you _know_ that they're the one for you, you fight like hell to keep them, to do whatever you can to hold on. You don't give up and you sure as hell don't fall out of love with them."

He gave a reassuring squeeze to her knee.

True love. He was talking about true love.

"Angel, have you ever been in love?" He asked, tone curious but tentative.

Ah. Relationships. The one topic they seemed to avoid like the plague. He, with famous ex-girlfriends and she with no prominent boyfriends to speak of.

"N-No." She stammered out.

"Not at all, ever?" He blinked. "Not even Ryden Carlisle?"

She let herself smile a little at that. But no, not even Ryden Carlisle. "Harry...I've never had a serious boyfriend." She admitted quietly. "I've never been in love and no one's ever loved me." Romantically speaking.

He clicked his tongue at her in a chiding manner. "Now I know that isn't true." He told her. "There's been someone out there who's been so head over heels for you he got tongue-tied in your presence." The thought made her giggle, but she knew it wasn't true. She was dumped, never the dumper. "No one's ever come close for you, though?" He continued on.

She murmured a no. "Maybe," she went on, "I don't know. Guess I never really gave them a chance."

"And now why is that?" He inquired, leaning forward. "Looking more and more like a heartbreaker to me."

Her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Her answer, in theory, didn't sound good enough as a reason. But it was the only one she had. "It never felt the way the movies and books said it should. I wasn't ever left breathless or swept off my feet. I never got giddy at the thought of them or felt fireworks when we kissed."

When she peeked over at him, relief flooded over her. He wasn't laughing or even trying to keep one in. He was looking at her in expressive earnest. There was no mockery or anything of malicious intent on his face. He looked...sweet. Sweet as always with those shining eyes and soft uptake of the corner of his mouth. _Understanding_ , that's what it was.

"That what you're waiting for?" He asked in a quiet voice. "Fireworks and butterflies, the whole ordeal?"

She hummed, almost happily, in response. Wasn't that what love felt like? Butterflies in your stomach and fireworks when you kissed? "Uh-huh. I don't wanna settle for something I think is love. I wanna _know_ he loves me, and that I love him. I wanna be able to feel it so deep in my bones because it's right."

A peek of a smile threatened his lips. _What is he thinking_ , she wondered to herself. "Starting to think you're a bit of a romantic, angel."

She rolled her eyes. It didn't happen to be the first time she'd been accused of such a thing. "Well," she started, "enough about me. What about you? Has the great Harry Styles ever been in love before?"

She almost didn't want to know the answer. No, she did. She really did.

His face became clouded. "Yeah, I think so." He sat back. She asked what happened. "Dunno yet." He replied in a whisper. He glanced back at her. "Still trying to figure it out."

_Is your heart taken_

_Is there somebody else on your mind_

_I'm so sorry I'm so confused_

_Just tell me am I out of time_

"What's with the hand-flex?" Harry asked through a mouthful of extra-buttery popcorn. The movie theater variety. "Why's it so important?"

Her eyes widened involuntarily. She turned from the TV and stared back at him. "You're joking." She deadpanned. He shook his head, saying no, he was not. She was quick to pause the movie and fully turn towards him. "Have you never seen _Pride and Prejudice_ before?"

Very quietly, almost meekly in manner, he said no.

"Harry!"

"What?"

She set the nail polish bottle on the coffee table. His education on all things Austen was much more important than the pretty lilac color she was coating her nails. "He loves her!" She said, now all undone with burgeoning excitement. "Darcy's in love with Elizabeth!"

"No." He countered surely. "He's not even nice to her! He despises her!"

She shook her head furiously. "No, he doesn't!" The look on his face was very evident of his disbelief. "He loves her, he does, okay? You just have to believe me."

Harry frowned. "What about the hand-flex, then? I thought it was because he didn't wanna touch her?"

"The total opposite! It's all about the _yearning_! The _longing_! The hand-flex is exactly that! You don't even realize that Darcy has helped her up until then and then when he walks away and flexes his hand. You can tell just from that how he loves her, and he was so nervous, and you know, it's Mr. Darcy! He's such an uncomfortable person and so antisocial and awkward and he can only show his affection in that one moment and-."

"This is your favorite movie, isn't it?"

He wore a smile that crept up on her. It threw her off (just a little, all she was willing to admit) enough for her to be left speechless (and maybe a little breathless, if she was being totally honest).

"It's my favorite _story_." She corrected. Movie, TV miniseries, book. Each adaptation pleased her and brought in a new wave of love for everything about it.

"I like seeing you like this." He told her. "Excited, like a kid on Christmas. It's cute."

 _Cute_. He thought she was cute.

Once again, she couldn't find the right words. Maybe it was the time to tell him she thought he was cute too. Maybe she could tell him that-."

"What color are you painting your nails?" He motioned towards the nail polish bottle. "Looks like lilac."

Her mouth parted and she let out a sharp little breath. "Oh. Uh." _Stupid_ , she told herself, _he didn't mean anything by it_. She picked up the bottle carefully, so as not to spill any of it. " _Loving Lilac_ , just something I picked up a while back."

"I like it."

She glanced at him. "It'd look nice on you..."

"You think so?" She nodded once in response. "Will you put it on me?"

Her eyes shot forward to look at him. "But you've already got some there on your nails." She pointed it out. Some light yellow on a couple of his nails, pink coating two nails (one on each hand). About five total of his nails were bare of any polish.

"On the clear ones, love." He chuckled, shaking his head. "I like a little variety, you know."

"If you insist."

She adjusted her position and he held out his hands. He wiggled his fingers at her. She rested the small bottle on her knee and held his left hand in her free one. They were both silent as she administered several coats of polish to his free nails.

The color did look lovely against his skin. Then again, she was sure all colors did.

"There." She capped the bottle before putting it back on the table. "All finished."

He held his hands out in front of his face. "Perfect. You did perfect."

Her phone buzzed against the coffee table before she could articulate a proper response. Who could that be? Immediately upon inspecting the new message, she regretted it.

_Fresno?_

She snatched the phone from the table and opened the message.

 **A few of us are taking the boat out tomorrow. Chip said you had plans already...?** 9:13 p.m.

The boat. The yacht. Fresno's prized possession. One of the best his money could buy. And by his money, she meant his father's. A party boat, more than anything. She'd been on it a few times back in college. Parties on his boat had always been more fun that the ones at their frat house.

She groaned, letting her head rest on the back of the plush sofa.

"Everything all right?" Harry poked her knee.

"Mmm, debatable." She mumbled.

She typed out a quick response, thankful Harry had already made plans for them tomorrow to spend the day lounging on the beach.

 **Chip speaks the truth. Hanging with a friend tomorrow, sorry!** 9:16 p.m.

His reply, of course, was instant.

 **Plenty of room for both of you. More the merrier...if you want?** 9:16 p.m.

"You've got to be kidding me." She muttered.

Harry poked her knee again. "What's goin' on?"

She let her phone slide between the cushions. "You remember Calvin?" He stared back, eyes blank. "Fresno." She prompted. She was probably the only one who called him by his actual name (it wasn't something he appreciated).

"Oh. Yeah. The house party dude. What 'bout him?"

She pulled her phone back out. "He's got a yacht and I guess a couple people are going out on it tomorrow. He wants to know if we wanna go, but we've got plans to go to the beach and-."

Harry shrugged. "Do you wanna go?"

She winced. "Not particularly. I mean, it's _Fresno_."

Her phone buzzed again. Dear God.

 **Hello?** 9:18 p.m.

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "We should go. It could be fun."

"'Could' being the operative word in that sentence." She mumbled.

"Come on, Ruby. On some guy's yacht, out on the water, way better than a crowded beach, yeah? Plus, no photographers..."

And there it was. The reason he was pushing it so hard. Avoidance of the paparazzi. There would be no prying eyes or cameras out on the ocean.

"All right, fine. Only because you want to." She told him. He gave her a wicked smile before she turned to her phone.

 **And you're sure? Don't wanna overpack the famous yacht. It could sink.** 9:20 p.m.

Another instant reply came through.

 **I'm sure, Manning. Meet at the marina tomorrow @ 10. Food and alcohol plenty provided by yours truly.** 9:20 p.m.

And then,

 **You and your friend make sure to wear something cute ;)** 9:20 p.m.

With shake of her head, she tossed her phone back on the table. She looked over at Harry. "You so owe me for this."

He grinned again before unpausing the movie.

_Is your heart breaking_

_How do you feel about me now_

_I can't believe I let you walk away_

_When, when I should have kissed you_

It was not going to be her day. That was a fact she had taken with her to bed the previous night. A fact that had been reinforced extra well when she awoke that morning.

"Oh, hell." She groaned, slinging her arm over to the right side of the bed.

"Ungh!"

She jerked up, whipping her head over. Harry was lying on his back, eyes squeezed shut. "Sorry!" She winced.

"D'I whack you in my sleep last night or somethin'? What'd I do to deserve that?" He groaned, sitting up. He rubbed the side of his neck.

"I said sorry!" She apologized again. She leaned over to inspect his face. Nothing seemed red or otherwise injured.

The puff of his warm breath against her own mouth was what alerted her of the close proximity of their faces. Her eyes flickered down to his lips, then his eyes, and back to his lips. So nice, plush and pink...

_Snap out of it!_

She pulled away. "No harm, no foul?" She asked him.

He blinked slowly. "Yeah. Sure."

"Great. I say we grab coffee and donuts on the way?"

"Sure, sounds fine."

They arranged that she would shower first. She didn't waste any time at all, primping and preening herself. Making sure she was soft and smooth all over. After all, this was the first time he'd be seeing her in a bathing suit. And she made sure to pack the best one. Sure, she had decided they were better as friends, but that didn't mean that she didn't want him to know just how good she could look in a bikini. Not only did it make her chest and butt look _phenomenal_ , it also happened to perfectly match her eyes.

God bless Mandy Westlund for her killer eye for fashion.

She changed fairly quickly into the two-piece suit. She reached for the comfy shorts and shirt she had planned to use as a cover-up outfit. The clothes were not on the bathroom counter.

"Oh, dear God."

She'd left them in her bag.

Yes, she wanted to stun the guy she liked with her bathing suit, but she had wanted to do that on the boat. Not in his bedroom!

Her words had apparently come out louder than she had thought because Harry was calling her name from the other side of the door.

"All right in there?" He called.

"Uh." She tried to think. Hell in a pretty pink hat, she couldn't believe her luck. "I left my clothes in my bag."

"Oh, uh...are you wearing your swimsuit?"

"Yeah."

"Then just come out and get them."

Fuckin' hell.

 _Here goes everything_.

She took a deep breath, one larger than she probably needed, before toeing the door open. He was sitting on the foot of his bed, arms rested on his thighs. Shirt forgone, revealing most of his tattoos. The twin sparrows on his pectorals, two dates on the place where his shoulders met his clavicle, the large and forever iconic butterfly in the middle of his chest. Several other small pieces of black ink. The symmetrical fern leaves that decorated his hip bones. He had to have at least fifty tattoos.

His eyes lifted and found her.

Every part of her went hot. "My bag is just...Yeah." She scurried over to her bag that she had left near the door into the bedroom. All her things were haphazardly strewn around from her earlier digging. She got down on her knees and bent over the bag in frantic search for her overclothes.

"What is _that_?"

Her head jerked back to look at him. "What? What's what?" Was there a stain on her suit? She knew he couldn't see the thin piece of raised skin that jutted across the bottom of her back. The bikini bottoms covered that nicely.

"On your...I didn't know you had another tattoo."

Her mouth fell open.

Oh. That.

The great spring break idea of 2016. Junior year. The last hurrah of her fake ID and the penultimate spring break trip of what had once been known as (and not always so affectionately) the Devil's Bitches. A whole week full of shotgunning free beer, funneling free beer, luging free beer. Really, a lot of free beer passed on by hopelessly drunk frat guys. A hellish and ungodly fun week where their last night in Miami resulted in a spur-of-the-moment trip to a shady tattoo parlor. A horrible flight back to L.A. the next day that was only helped by a lot of Gatorade and Advil.

"Uh, yeah. It's kinda an inside joke." She yanked the white cotton shorts from her bag and hastily pulled them on. She grabbed the old and oversized UCLA DAD tee and pulled it over her head.

"Between who? You and Strawberry Shortcake?"

The off the wall joke made her laugh. "Funny." She smiled at him. "Me and the girls, actually. A bunch of us went to Miami for spring break our junior year and on our last night, we were drunk and just kinda decided to get tattoos."

"And Blythe went for that?"

She snorted. "It was her idea!" She collapsed on the bed, laying out beside him. She rested her hands on her stomach and he looked back at her. "Anyway, they were all laughing their asses off because I had gotten so sick off strawberry vodka one day and I ended up with a strawberry tattooed on my ass cheek." He asked what the other girls ended up with. It was a hard thing to forget, their drunken pact to always remain friends, no matter what. And the little pieces of ink that solidified it. "Alyse has a rose. Mandy got a peach, she thinks she has the best ass of all of us. And Blythe, well..."

"What'd she get? A set of lips?"

"Worse." She sat up. "She got a cookie. A fucking chocolate chip cookie."

The revelation sent him over the edge. He doubled over in laughter and she swore there were tears.

"That's the most ridiculous shit I've ever heard. I can't believe you lot went all sorority row for your spring break."

"Harry, we didn't _go_ sorority row. We _were_ sorority row. We all meet during Fall Rush our freshman year. Got into the same house and been inseparable ever since." She hadn't realized that she'd never disclosed that piece of information to him. Greek life didn't always draw a ton of enthusiasm from people who weren't members themselves.

"You were a sorority girl?" She nodded firmly. "Didn't know that about you."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, H."

So much. And some of it, she wasn't willing to share.

_I should, I should oh I should have kissed you_

_I should, I should oh I should have kissed you_

_I should, I should oh I should have kissed you_

_I should, I should oh I should have kissed you_

For whatever he was worth, Calvin Fletcher had an uncanny eye for the weather. He was unusually perceptive about when good and bad weather would arrive; rain, sleet, tornadoes. And that day, it was a _really_ good day for taking the prized yachtout on the open water.

"Peach up, buttercup." Harry pinched the supple piece of unexposed flesh on her waist. "It's gonna be fun."

She side-eyed him as they stepped up onto the piece of stepping that led up to the boat. Across the side, in glittering black writing was the apt name of Fresno's most coveted possession: _Nauti Girl_. "Oh, yeah," she drawled, "lots of fun."

The yacht was huge. Nearly three hundred feet. Stark white. and modern built. If she remembered correctly, there were six decks. Seven cabins, a full-sized living area, along with a kitchen and dining room. There was also a game room and a small cinema. A small garage that housed three or four jet skis. One of the decks had a pool and hot tub, lined with several chaises. There were sunning areas on all the decks. The topmost was home to a half-mooned lounging pad. Most of the boat was structural glass.

"This is..."

"Yeah, don't inflate his ego. His head's already big enough." She muttered.

"Manning!" Her surname was immediately shouted as soon as her feet were planted on board.

 _Here we go_ , she thought to herself.

Fresno rushed towards them. He was sans shirt, pineapple print board shorts looking a little too short on him. Floppy blond hair waving in the light breeze. Ever present puka shell necklace.

"Hey, Calv." She smiled half-heartedly. He glanced in Harry's direction, eyes darkening. "Oh, this is Harry. Harry, Calv."

Harry, never without social enthusiasm, waved at Fresno. "Thanks for letting me tag along, mate."

"Yeah, sure." Fresno muttered.

"Harry!" Alyse shouted. "Come here!"

Harry's hand slid against Ruby's arm as he walked over to join Alyse. She looked up at Fresno, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.

"So, who's the guy?" He wagged his finger in Harry's direction. Harry had made it safely to Alyse, who was pouring him a drink.

She scratched the side of her neck. "My friend...? You said he could come."

Fresno grimaced. What was his issue? "I uh, didn't know he was your boyfriend. Chip didn't say you had a boyfriend."

She laughed quietly and pushed a few pieces of hair from her shoulder. "He's not my boyfriend." She informed him. _But I wish he was_. "Harry and I have been friends since we were kids."

His face brightened instantaneously. "Oh. Well, uh-."

She reached out and pressed her hand against the crook of his elbow. She presented him with a soft and sincere smile (the most genuine one he had ever seen from her, and probably ever would). "Thanks for inviting him, Calv. It was really nice of you."

He nodded, whetting over his bottom lip. "Ruby, look-."

"Ruby!" This new calling came from Mandy. She had joined Alyse and Harry and had a champagne flute filled with a pretty pink liquid. Small pieces of strawberry floated on top of whatever the beverage was. "You _have_ to come try these strawberry mimosas B cooked up!"

Strawberry, her favorite. Paired with champagne, how could she ever decline?

She gripped Fresno's arm a little tight in her initial excitement. "Ooh, I love strawberry. Catch you later?"

His mouth was downturned, accompanied by the slant of his eyebrows. "Sure. Yeah." He nodded. "We'll talk later."

"Great." She patted his arm before running off to join her friends. Mandy held out a full flute of a sparkling pink liquid. One small sip and she was in love. The champagne was airy and light. Accompanied by a blended mix of strawberries and orange juice and little bits of cut up frozen strawberries. She'd never had a better mimosa. "B, you're a genius." She took another drink.

Blythe was wound up in Chip's arms, her head rested against his jaw. "What can I say?" She grinned back.

"What's the great Fresno Fletcher talking about these days?" Alyse glanced behind Ruby.

She shrugged and took another generous sip of the mimosa. "Honestly, I have no idea. He was hardly making sense."

Harry, like it was the most normal thing in the world (and for them, it was), slipped his arm over her shoulders. Alyse tucked back a smile behind a drink. Mandy was practically gawking at the gesture. And Blythe...well, he had gotten the seal of approval for friendship. Strictly.

"You make the poor boy nervous." Blythe tittered.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Ruby laughed. "He's never had trouble with his mouth before. In fact, it's gotten him in a lot of trouble in the past." Upon saying the words, she realized just how salacious they sounded. As if she knew from personal experience the troubles of his mouth. 

"Manning, you're blind as a bat when it comes to guys, you know that?" Chip shook his head. "Fresno's had the hots for you for years."

He had the _what_ for her? Next to her, Harry stiffened. When she peeked at him, he seemed cool as a cucumber. But she knew what she felt. Tension. Tension!

"He has?" They asked at the same time.

Her cheeks flamed.

"Oh, look!" Mandy gasped. "There's Russ! See you guys!" She darted off towards the bar area, the sound of her flip flops echoing on the polished wood.

"I'd better go check my...yeah." Alyse muttered. She gave Ruby a sympathetic look before stalking away.

"Yeah, but you hate his guts and he's been terrified of you since that dodgeball game." Chip continued on. "Why do you hate him anyway?"

That was a question she didn't have an answer to. She had never been given a real reason to hate him. He'd done nothing wrong towards her or anyone she cared about. He was just...She couldn't place it.

She had always thought their bickering and her dislike was a two-way street. But he _liked_ her. And always had, according to Chip. And Chip was no unreliable source.

She found her eyes wandering and they landed on the man himself. He was talking to another guy she recognized as one of their old brothers and a girl wearing a skimpy red bikini.

_Fresno._

Calvin. He hated his first name but for some reason never spoke out when she used it. Only when others did. And he was never really unkind towards her. In fact, he had always been...nice? He had even gone out of his way at his party to make her favorite drink for her. Holy hell.

He wasn't unattractive in the least. He was cute, if one were into the surfer dude appearance. And while he wasn't hard to look at, he was no-.

"Did you wanna sun?" Harry leaned down to ask.

She shook herself from her thoughts and looked up at him. "Oh, yeah. I need all the Vitamin D I can get."

"We know." Blythe smirked.

Ooh, she wanted to whack her sometimes! Ruby shot her a menacing look before she led Harry up to the top deck of the boat. The sunning area was lonely and quiet, everyone down on the lower decks enjoying the music and drinks. The white half-moon couch really was something to marvel at and the light-yellow accent pillows added a nice touch to it.

Harry settled on the couch, already having shed his shirt and shoes. She snuck a look as she stepped of her own clothes. His swim shorts rode up, revealing the tiger tattoo on his thigh. One day, maybe she'd figure out the meaning behind all the ink that decorated his body.

She crawled up and propped a pillow behind her head as she laid down. For just after ten in the morning, the sun was already unbearably warm. If she wasn't careful and attentive, she'd end up the color of Blythe's hair at the end of the day. What a scary thought.

"A book would be great right now." She said, adjusting her sunglasses to fit properly over her face.

"Good thing I brought you one, then."

She raised her sunglasses and half-sat up to look over at him. He was reaching in her bag and tossed out a book she didn't recognize.

"What's this?" She picked it up. _Outlander_ , she'd never heard of it.

"Picked it up a few days ago. Thought you might like it. Lady at the store said it was romance and history. You like that kinda stuff."

It made her heart surge and soar. She clasped her fingers a little tighter around the book as she held it against her. He'd gotten her a book. Not just any book, one he knew she would like. He paid attention. He cared.

"H, that was really sweet of you. Thank you." She opened the book and immediately began to settle back into a comfortable position. "But next time you buy from a bookshop in Los Angeles that isn't Jupiter House, we're gonna have a problem."

She didn't bother looking up at the sound of his quiet laughter. She knew if she saw that smile, any words of the book would be lost to her for the rest of the day.

_Every morning when I leave my house_

_I always look for you_

_I see you every time I close my eyes_

_What am I gonna do_

"Hey...Hey."

She peeked an eye open and glanced over at her tanning partner. Unsuccessfully, she had been trying to take a quick nap. Every time she came close to dozing off, she was jolted back awake by one of Harry's sudden movements.

"Hmm?" She hummed.

"Can I borrow your scrunchie?"

She raised up. "For what reason?"

He pushed aside the stray curls that littered his forehead. "They're buggin' me. Tickles a little."

She rolled the magenta hair accessory off her wrist and tossed it to him. She watched through the corner of her eye as he struggled to tie up his hair. "Here." She crawled over to him. "Let me." 

She took the scrunchie back and rolled his hair into a wad. "Hair's so soft." She murmured as she made a tiny ponytail. Ruby sat back and appreciated her work. He didn't have the right to be so damn cute.

"All better." He smiled.

He went to rub his fingers across his forehead.  
"Wait!" She scrambled over for her phone.

"What? What'd I do?" He looked around.

"Nothing. Just stay like that and look at me." She instructed him. He sat, elbow rested on his knee, hand shaded over his eyes. She snapped a few quick photos before pausing to admire the beauty of the man before her. His facial hair had grown over the past few days, leaving a gentle trail of stubble along his jawline and above his top lip. "Perfect." She murmured.

He held her gaze, mouth parted just so. He scratched at his hairline. "Ruby..."

She blinked slowly. "Hmm?"

_Kiss him, just lean forward and do it._

He was only centimeters away from her. One quick move and their lips would be touching. Just a little closer and-.

"Hey, Manning!"

She was going to _murder_ Calvin Fletcher.

The imbecile was jogging towards them at a leisurely pace. His face looked a little more smug than usual.

"Calv." She strained to be polite. Even though she wanted to wring his cock-blocking neck. Maybe with that stupid necklace of his...

He strolled to a stop at the edge of the couch. "Would you guys be up for crashing here tonight?"

"Oh, I don't know, Calv." She said. "We've-."

"Sounds fun." Harry interrupted. "I think we should."

Fresno was awfully pleased that Harry agreed with him. "Listen to the man, Ruby. He speaks words of wisdom."

She crossed her arms over her chest and shot Harry a traitorous glare. "Sure. Why not? I remember the beds aren't _terrible_."

Harry raised his eyebrows at her.

"Great. I was gonna take one of the skis out. Wanna ride?"

He really was trying to ruin her life.

She glanced at Harry and he nodded towards Fresno.

"I'm kinda hungry myself, so I'm gonna go find something to eat. I'll see you when you get back." He told her.

Maybe she'd wring his neck too.

"Kitchen's on the third deck. Help yourself to whatever." Fresno said. Harry thanked him before sliding off the couch and headed towards the inside area. "Ready?"

She smiled tightly. "We are so _not_ sharing a ski."

"Whatever you want, Manning."

_And all my friends say_

_That I'm punching over my weight_

_But in your eyes I_

_Saw how you were looking at me_

She was _soaked_. The second jet ski was experiencing technical difficulties therefore she and Fresno had been forced to share one. It hadn't been such a bad time at first. The gentle sprays of water were a welcome coolness in the blazing heat of the sun. The whipping wind and the scurry of little fish beneath them. She had been thoroughly enjoying herself until the trick.

 _The Whip-Around_ , as Fresno called it.

It was a move he had perfected and shown off several times. Something she had seen with her own eyes on many occasions.

The moment her body jolted up into the air she remembered what exactly about Calvin Fletcher irked her so much. His ego was preposterously large. She didn't even have the time to yell his name before she was plunging into the water.

"I'm soaking wet!" She snatched a towel from the rack.

"It was fun!" He countered as he grabbed his own towel. He rubbed over his hair. "So, you got a little wet, what's the big deal, Manning?"

She cut her eyes as she wrung out her hair. "I wasn't planning on getting wet." His mouth smirked up. "Do _not_ make one of those smart-ass comments or I will kick your ass."

He grinned back at her. "You know me so well." He slung his arm over her shoulder. "Hungry? I'm famished myself."

With uncannily perfect timing, her stomach growled. She looked away from him as his grin grew larger.

"How does a PB&J sound?" He asked her.

It didn't sound awful. A peanut butter and jelly actually sounded pretty good. Not heavy enough to unsettle her stomach in the heat, but enough to quench her hunger. The coffee and donuts had sufficed in the earlier morning but hadn't lasted long enough to be entirely filling.

"Really good." She laughed.

He kept his arm around her as they walked down from the deck to the kitchen on the second level. It was cooler in the inside of the yacht, blessed be air conditioning.

"I'll even make you one of my famous tequila sunrises."

Now that was temptation if she'd ever seen it. "That might make up for throwing me into the ocean." She teased.

"I'll do whatever you want. Promise."

She halted.

Fresno drew to a stop beside her.

The girl in the red bikini- he had told her earlier her name was Anya- was perched on top of the counter. There was a half-empty bottle of gin next to her thigh and a martini in her hand. She was picking chips off a plate.

Harry's plate.

Her best friend- and that was all he was, right?- was leaned against the counter next to Anya. The two appeared to be having an intimate conversation. Fully made over with little smiles and lilting laughs.

Friends. Ruby and Harry were _friends_.

So, why did she burn when this other girl flushed her hand across his shoulder?

Fresno glanced back at her. He raised an eyebrow in question. She smiled reassuringly, thought it was a little wobbly. "Thought I was gonna puke for a second. I'm good."

"You sure you should drink tequila then? Don't want you puking on my boat."

Ruby rolled her eyes. "I can handle my liquor."

"Whatever you say, Manning. Take a seat and let me work my magic."

She sat down on one of the bar stools and leaned her arms on the cool marble of the countertop. Naturally, at the time she looked over to gauge the situation near her, Harry had also decided to glance her way.

"Hey, you're back." He smiled easily. "Have fun?"

She nodded. "'Til I was thrown into the ocean." She shot Fresno a glare.

"Oh. You guys rode together?" Harry asked.

Fresno laid out four pieces of bread over a paper towel. He placed a jar of creamy peanut butter next to a jar of strawberry jelly. "Thought she was gonna wring my neck when I pulled her out of the water." He laughed as he grabbed a butter knife.

Ruby ran a hand through her tangled hair. There was no doubt in her mind her hair would look ratty by the time it dried completely. Saltwater was never very kind to her hair. "Strawberry?" She cast a glance at the jelly jar.

She was pretty sure that she was the only person she knew who made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with strawberry jelly instead of grape.

He dipped the knife down into peanut butter. "You like strawberry." He said, not even looking up from crafting their sandwiches.

She did like strawberry. Though, like seemed too underwhelming a word to describe her affinity for the fruit. After all, she did have a strawberry tattooed on her ass cheek. She always bought strawberry scented shampoo. But it didn't seem like something _Fresno_ would remember, let alone know, about her.

The kitchen grew quiet.

"Here." He handed her a finished sandwich. "I'll get started on that drink."

The last thing her stomach full of bundled nerves and jacked up feelings needed was a strong bout of tequila. The drink was bad enough, adding it to the wavering movements of the boat and her emotions sounded like a horrible idea. A time-bomb ready to explode whenever.

"Actually," she tore the sandwich in half, "I think water would be better."

He nodded empathetically and opened the fridge. She took the chance to peak over at Harry and Anya. The girl was sliding off the counter, the back of her bikini bottoms wedged up in her ass.

"Want to check out the pool with me?" Anya asked him.

Ruby averted her attention back to Fresno as Harry glanced at her. A bottle of Fiji water was slid her way.

"Uh, yeah. Sure." Harry mumbled. "See you later?"

Ruby looked back at him. She smiled and nodded. "Yeah, have fun."

And then Anya was grabbing his hand and leading him away.

Fresno leaned across the counter. "Can I let you in on a little secret?"

She closed her eyes. Now was not the time for one of his jokes. "I really don't want to know how big your dick is."

His jaw ticked in an amused fashion. "Not at all where I was going. I was just gonna tell you that unless you let him know how you feel, nothing is ever gonna happen."

Hold on. _What_?

Calvin 'Fresno' Fletcher was giving her advice on her love life. Had Hell frozen over? Were pigs flying?

"I don't know what you're talking about." She took a bite of the sandwich. It was a really good sandwich, she realized. High quality peanut butter paired with sublime strawberry jelly, on perfect sliced wheat bread. Damn.

"You know I like you, Manning. Have for a long time. So, when I look at you, I see how you look at him."

She dropped the half-sandwich onto the counter.

"What's the worst that could happen?" He asked her.

So many things. So many horrible things. "We're _friends_. That's all we've ever been, and I don't want to ruin that."

"Maybe you won't. But you'll never know unless you do something about it." She recognized that voice well. A scheming voice. Little Fresno Fletcher was cooking up a plan in that surfer boy brain of his. "It's understandable that you want to feel it out first. Find out if he might feel the same."

"What did you have in mind?" She inquired. Though, she knew, it couldn't be anything good.

_It's all that I can think about_

_You're all that I can think about_

Heat, heavy and sensational, blazed down on her shoulders. Ruby tipped down her sunglasses to the end of her nose. Her eyes slid over to the pool. To her own fretful realization, Harry was still occupied with Anya. Nothing masterfully illicit seemed to be taking place, mostly, from what she saw, conversation. Between two people standing too close for her comfort.

"Here. Fresh made." Alyse pushed a wide-cupped champagne flute into her hand.

Sugary, saccharine strawberries wafted through her nostrils. Her favorite scent. Maybe, maybe _second-favorite_...? She shook the thought away and took an experimental sip. Delicious, as ever. Blythe made a rocking mimosa.

"Look at you two." Fresno grinned. "Two beautiful babes."

Alyse rolled her eyes. Ruby, however, smiled at him graciously. She lifted her drink to him before taking another slow sip.

"Want a pic for the 'gram feed?" He asked them. "I'm a great photographer."

She leaned her body up and slid her phone towards him. "I'm sure you are."

She missed the unforgiving look on Alyse's face. They both listened and did as directed by their bossy photographer. _Sunglasses off, baby, on your knees, straight up, arch a little..._ Soft clicks indicated a variety of photos being taken. Ruby lifted her hand to block the harsh sunlight from her eyes.

"Oh, my God. Fuckin' smokin' babe." Fresno gleamed. "Absolutely perfect."

The brazen comment earned a snicker from Alyse. Ruby's cheeks flamed as her best friend stared back at her with raised eyebrows.

"Done."

Fresno handed Ruby her phone back. She flipped her way through the photos. He hadn't lied, he was a great photographer. The sun beating down over the horizon was the perfect background and provided an epic light. The pink liquid sparkled in the sunlight.

"These are really good." Alyse copped a look over her shoulder.

He shrugged the compliment off. "Make sure you drop my creds, Manning. I need more followers."

She half-smiled at him and decided to post one of the latter photos on her camera roll.

Fresno glanced up at her as his phone dinged. He was quiet for a few seconds before their eyes met again. "You're a fox, Manning. Damn it."

Alyse whistled under her breath. "I'm gonna...yeah." In quick fashion, she slunk away from them. 

Ruby took a long drink and finished her mimosa. She set the glass down before taking a sitting position. She slid her sunglasses back on.

"You keep complimenting me like that, and you might get lucky." She laid down to continue soaking up the rays of the sun.

"Don't say things you don't mean. I know your sweet little secret."

She shot up and whipped the glasses from her face.

There was no way in hell he knew. How could he...? Harry didn't even know. Actually, Harry didn't know a lot about her. Opening up to him proved to be harder than with others. Granted, she had never been especially skilled in letting people in. Knocking down walls she had spent years so artfully constructing was difficult and not something she liked doing. Those walls had been built for a reason.

"I don't...I don't know what you're talking about." She whispered.

The corner of his mouth smirked up. "Riight." His eyes glittered.

She squirmed under his gaze. Surely, surely, none of the girls had spilled the beans. If Chip knew, there was no way he had said anything. He kept secrets the way Fort Knox kept money. Maybe he just _knew_. Could he sense it, smell it on her? Okay, perhaps that was a bit dramatic but how else could he know?

_Is your heart taken_

_Is there somebody else on your mind_

_I'm so sorry I'm so confused_

_Just tell me am I out of time_

His hand crept up the smooth slope of her shin. The pads of his fingers left tickling traces before her knee became the resting place. Imperceptibly, his head nodded towards the direction of the pool.

Harry was walking right towards them. The bright yellow swim shorts were stuck to his thighs in a slick, wet mess. Beads of water dripped down his legs. In the sunlight, he almost shone. Her velvet scrunchie was still tied up in his curly locks, a sight which she held close to her heart. His face was passive, peaceful. And she was thankful that his newfound company was nowhere to be seen.

Ruby adjusted her composure as she slid her sunglasses back over her eyes. She leaned back, resting her weight on her elbows. Back arched ever so slightly. One leg extended, the other bent up (Fresno's warm hand still present and cupped around her knee). Head lilted back in the essence of basking.

Ruby Manning may have been a virgin, but she was extremely talented in the art of seduction. Combined lessons from all her friends and countless hours spent devouring saucy romance novels from the dime section of the bookstore were all the tutelage she needed.

 _It's all about the look. Effortless, confident,_ Blythe's words rang in her eardrums. _Sex isn't just an act, it's a feeling. A look_ , Alyse's voice chimed in. _Arch your back, part your lips, and get all doe eyed. Boys go nuts for a little slutty innocence_ , Mandy rang through.

Slutty innocence. A paradox if she'd ever heard one.

"Am I uh, am I interrupting?" Harry's voice interrupted her reruns of wine-fueled college nights.

Both she and Fresno turned to him at the same time. "Nope." She popped the 'p'. "What's up?"

His hand lifted and he scratched at the place behind his left ear. A nervous tick of his, she had long picked up on. Did he know hers? Did he pay attention to her the way she did him? "I was gonna see if you'd send me that photo you took earlier. Of me. Jeff says I gotta post something, satiate the fans."

Tension she hadn't even realized had built up quickly crumbled apart. "Oh." She turned her face from him. Her fingers fumbled as they picked up her phone. "Yeah, gimme a sec."

It took a few seconds to mosey through the several photos of her and Alyse before she found the three photos of Harry she had snapped earlier in the day. His effortless appeal sent rolling pangs through her. It wasn't fair that he did the things he did to her and he probably didn't even know it. She severely doubted that he experienced the same overwhelming tides when he looked at her. A few more seconds and the photos had been successfully messaged to him.

"Done." She turned her head back up to the sky.

Fresno's fingers tapped against the hot skin of her knee. "Wanna go for a dip?" At the presence of warm breaths against her knee, she craned up. His mouth was mere centimeters from the inside of her knee. Hot little breaths fell flush against her skin. "You're already wet anyway." The salacious comment, paired with the sensual press of his lips against the inside of her knee, made her stomach churn.

It wasn't the usual disgust she battled whenever he said something particularly raunchy. This was...dear God, was she _turned on_?

Heat rose in her cheeks and she swatted him away. "Don't be vulgar, Calv."

"Ruby." Harry was stringent. Off-kilter and not wholly comfortable. That much she could tell. His fingers were twitching at his sides and his shoulders had tensed.

She let her tongue swipe over her bottom lip as she turned to look at him. "Harry." She responded with his own name. In the heat of it all, she heard of flash of his name from her lips, said in an entirely different manner. Breathy moans parted out like a life-saving chant. A mantra that would protect and uplift her.

"Can I talk to you? Alone?"

She practically scrambled to her feet. In the haste, she nearly slipped. Harry's hand curled around her elbow and Fresno's around her ankle. The joint effort by both kept her from wiping out and becoming a laughing stock. Fresno let her go and leaned his head back on his hands as she walked away with Harry.

She let him lead her down to the first inside level. Past the monochrome, modern kitchen and into the comfortable living area that projected a stellar view of the wide-open ocean outside. They were miles from even being close to the shoreline. Out on vast eternity of the water where the world seemed to stretch on end, no piece of land in sight.

"What's up?" She let herself fall into the plush cushions of one of the couches. "Where's Anya?" It's a low jab and green has never really been a flattering color on her. Jealousy has always wormed its way into her easily. Usually, she's good at hiding it.

Usually, she's good at a lot of things.

All training and past experience fades away when Harry Styles is concerned. He wipes away every piece of her and she finds herself starting with a blank slate every time. Never has anyone so righteously redefined her life and her person. He's in her like a drug and she doesn't think she wants to quit. Now, if she could just admit to said drug that he's coating her veins.

 _Yeah, right_.

"So, you and Fresno...? I didn't know...he doesn't seem like your type."

Perhaps if she'd downed a few more of those mimosas or even the offered tequila sunrise, she would have convinced herself that the little twinge in his words came from a place of jealously. A place that looked horrendous on her but oh so fine on him. Or so she imagined. This, she decided, was a bit of friendly curiosity. But she didn't forget his dodging of her own question. Where was the red bikini clad Anya?

"I have a type?" She stares out at the horizon. Her arm falls off the edge of the couch in a structured, lazy movement. Her knuckles brushed against the cool hardwood flooring. _You,_ she thinks, _say it's you. You're my type._

Harry knelt down next to the arm of the couch where her head rested. His fingers were cool against the flesh of her face as he swept a piece of still damp hair back. "Just doesn't seem like he's the right fit for you."

She craned back to meet his gaze. So many times in the past twelve hours had she found his face only spaces from her own. Perhaps if she had more liquid courage in her systems, she would have leaned forward and brushed her lips across his. But, she doesn't. She may never find the courage, liquid or otherwise, to commit the action that clouds her thoughts.

"M'just having fun, H. No one else around to rile up."

His eyes darkened. He crept around to the opening of the couch. She sat up to make room for him. He found himself situated between her legs. "I was around. Or am I not your type?"

Air popped in her lungs. Something heated in her core and she found herself leaning towards him. He was a magnetic force of nature, something no one should ever reckon with. Powerful in all laws of nature. Soft and seductive, supple and sweet. A strawberry. Perfectly crafted for her.

"Last I recall, you were off gallivanting with Anya." And she hated the bitter way in which she said the other woman's name. Ruby had no claim over Harry, not in the way she wanted. And she had no way to express what exactly she wanted.

"I'm here now."

 _Oh, hell_.

She has to change the subject. If she doesn't, who knows what will happen? Well, besides the incurable ruination of her longest friendship that didn't include her brother. Fourteen years down the drain all because he made her knees go weak and head fuzzy. No way in hell was that happening.

Ruby Manning was all for women taking charge and making the first move. So long as they weren't her. If he wanted it (and that was a big if) he had to make the first move. She was not going to implode their friendship on a slight chance he liked her back. She had to be smarter than that.

"You'd better post that picture. Before Jeff finds himself a new client." She whispered. At that, she had to force her attention off him. A few more seconds looking into the hazy green of his eyes and she'd be a goner.

Yellow had always been her favorite color. It was bright and happy and fun. It sent her into a whirling daze of fond childhood memories and stirred up the sound of her father's laughter. Hours spent on the beach designing and bringing to life immaculate sandcastles, adorned with seashells and washed up seaweed, complete with a moat, and a drawbridge made of driftwood. Yellow was sunflowers and happy endings in books. Laughter and smiles.

Yellow had always been her favorite color, but it was now rivaled by green. All the shades that occupied the irises of Harry's eyes. Green with gentle flecks of gold and hazel. Bright, dark, glittering. His eyes were a deep abyss of moss and she'd be okay lying there forever, getting lost, drowning as the colors changed with his mood.

A breathless smile swept over his face. "You're right. Gotta keep 'em all happy, huh?"

She nodded wordlessly as he whipped out his phone. They sat in what she honed as an uncomfortable silence for several minutes. Her mind drifted as his fingers tapped away on the screen of his phone. Had he gotten Anya's number? Were they texting? Would they go out sometime?

All of a sudden, her heart lurched. She was no longer stricken with romantic jealousy, but also the platonic kind. It was worrisome enough for her to imagine the two of them hitting it off and this random invite girl snatching Harry right from her fingertips before she herself had even really worked out all the complex emotions (because really, she's never felt like this before about a guy). But to even slightly entertain the idea that this girl might caution up more of his time, taking him from her. It made her sick.

They were working with borrowed time as it was. The truth, however much she hated to admit it, was inevitable. Harry was going to go back to London at some point. And that was fine. Nothing between them would change. But that didn't mean that she wasn't still hungry and wanton for all the time she could manage from him. Because, before he left, she wanted to do two things. Let him inside and tell him how she felt.

And those two things were not possible if he was running around Los Angeles with fucking Anya.

Time with Harry was precious, and she wasn't too keen on giving any of it up. It was a selfish notion and she didn't very much care. She wasn't selfish when it came to a lot of things, therefore she deemed it acceptable to be selfish when it came to him.

Her phone buzzed with a notification from Instagram. Two notifications to be exact.

Instagram: **harrystyles liked your post**

Instagram: **harrystyles mentioned you in a comment**

After shooting him a furtive glance, she opened the app and his most recent post nearly knocked her over.

 _Beautiful_. It was the word that came to mind every time she saw him, whether in person or picture. And yes, she had taken the picture that graced her phone screen at the time but seeing it in this capacity was something else. She swallowed.

"You're going to break the internet." She told him. _And my heart_.

_Is your heart breaking_

_How do you feel about me now_

_I can't believe I let you walk away_

_When, when I should have kissed you_

_Let me be your first_.

Hazy, thick-throated, and heavy as hell. That was the way Calvin Fletcher uttered those five little pieces pushed together as a sentence. The suggestion was so...so...raw she couldn't tell if he was messing with her or not. She had a bad feeling he was being serious.

Which meant, he knew.

Which was how her hand ended up clawed around Blythe's forearm, dragging her away from whatever quiet conversation she was having with Harry. Something she had to be sure to ask about later, because neither party wore a content look on their face.

"Ow, what the hell?" Blythe grumbled as Ruby pulled her to a private area of the deck. "Bitch." Blythe rubbed the reddening spot on her arm as she was let go.

"How the _fuck_ does Fresno know?" Ruby snarled. She backed her friend up to the wall. Discomfort and anger burned under her skin.

The steeled cool of Blythe's eyes bore back at her. "Know what? Geez, what are you, fucking Superman?"

"This isn't a joke, B!" Ruby snapped.

Rarely, very, very rarely did she lose her temper. Just another thing she managed to hide behind walls taller than the Empire State Building and sturdier than that shit Captain America's shield was made of. Her temper, when lost, was not easy to regain. Much like her goodwill (how Mr. Darcy of her).

Blythe huffed a breath through her nose. She pinched the bridge of her nose between her index finger and thumb. "Okay," she blinked slowly, "what disastrous secret has the dumbass uncovered?"

Ruby's hands fidgeted. God, saying the word made her stomach roll. It wasn't something she was ashamed of, not in the least. All her friends knew (well, minus Harry). It wasn't even something that really meant a lot to her. It was just something that...was.

"He knows about the v-card thing. That I haven't...ya know, lost it." Flowers of heat blossomed under her skin. "Who told?"

It was rude that her mind immediately flitted to Mandy. She had loose lips, even more so when her blood was heated from a few too many drinks. Alcohol caused her to spill not only her secrets, but secrets that she had harvested from others as well. None of it was through malicious intent, she never remembered the contents of her nights on the morning after.

The corners of Blythe's mouth tugged up. "Oh, honey." She pushed off the wall and Ruby took a slow step back. "Boys are like sharks. They can smell virginity from miles away. Well, probably not. But it's not really a secret that you're hiding a whole ass cherry between those thighs."

 _A whole ass cherry_.

Virginity. What a stimulating, stifling social construct. She had no legitimate reason for why her figurative cherry had never been popped. Her family had never been very religious, so the sin of premarital sex was lost upon her. Opportunities aplenty had been presented throughout high school and college. Her little myriad of boyfriends here and there had been itching for the chance and she never let them have it.

In her heart and mind, she knew the reason.

 _Romantic_ , Harry's voice echoed.

That was the whole, pure truth of it. Ruby Manning was a fool for love. She loved everything about it. The ooey-gooey, mush and gush of it all. It could be a quick descent down a slippery slope, tangled limbs and hot passion. Or it could be a slow and steady climb up the mountain, fleeting glances and lingering fingertips. Love was versatile and unknown.

She wanted love. Love in all its forms. She was twenty-three and she had known so many things except for that smothering feeling. Happiness so strong she would burst, passion so burning her entire body was engulfed in flames.

Her virginity was special, in that sense only. She didn't want to lose it to someone she barely knew. She didn't want to give it away to someone who didn't know the ins and outs of her entire being. How she liked her eggs (scrambled, doused in hot sauce) or what song to play to instantly lift her mood ( _Here Comes the Sun_ ). If she lost it- no, when she lost it, her cherry was dedicated to someone who loved her. Someone she loved.

And for someone who had never been loved or been in love, the future didn't look too prosperous. She and her virginity were tighter than a chain link.

"Oh, my God." She groaned. She buried her face in her hands. "No wonder he-."

"He _what_?" Blythe pried.

Ruby peeked between her fingers. "Nothing." She covered quickly. Blythe would blow more than her top if she found out her least favorite person had sexually propositioned one of her favorite people.

Blythe rolled her eyes. "Right. Anyway, know we know why Calvin's been sniffing around you like you're a cat in heat. He wants your sweet little cherry."

Mortification rolled through her. That was vulgar without using taboo language.

"So, you wanna let him have a taste or should I buckle you up in a one of those medieval virgin belts?"

She didn't put it past Blythe to actually find and produce a chastity belt. She could just picture being fastened into that contraption. Humiliating and nightmarish.

"Neither. I'm sure I can fend Fresno off until tomorrow."

Blythe snickered. "Right. I can picture you two rolling around his mattress tonight."

Disgusting.

The thought felt like ick in her brain. Wrong and intrusive. With heft, she shoved it away. There was a long, long list of people she was sure she was never going to have sex with, and Calvin Fletcher was at the top of the list. And he definitely wasn't taking her virginity.

Now, on the other end...Harry...

A match lit inside the deeper part of her stomach at just the thought of his hands on her. The innocence of friendship forgone and replaced by something animalistic and bridled in passion. Cold metal rings pressed into the hot flush of her skin. Fingers digging into the dips of her hips and trailing lines-.

"Did you just hear a word I said?" Blythe snapped in her face. One, two, three quick successions.

Ruby blinked several times. Forced down the primal imagines into the deepest recess of her mind. Because, no, she had not heard her friend's words. She had been too enthralled with the extremely vivid sexual fantasy of her best friend.

Dear God, she probably needed therapy.

"Uh huh." She murmured. "I need a drink."

Blythe shrugged her arm over Ruby's shoulders. She gave her a little side squeeze. "Let's get you fixed up, babe."

_I should, I should oh I should have kissed you_

_I should, I should oh I should have kissed you_

_I should, I should oh I should have kissed you_

_I should, I should oh I should have kissed you_

She had been reading way too many of those dime section books. Her thoughts ran rampant with all kinds of sexual depravities. Each tantalizing and raunchy daydream involved Harry. And her. She and Harry. Harry and her. In her bed, his bed. That gorgeous tub in his hotel room. Her kitchen counter. Pressed against the bathroom door of a seedy bar. Locked in his dressing room fresh after a concert, sweat sheening his skin and adrenaline coursing through the both of them.

What a damn mess.

The sun didn't do anything to help quell her sudden _ravenous_ need for Harry's utmost attention. And his touch. And no, she didn't mean the sweet little hand holding.

Once she started, she couldn't stop.

Gentle swishes of water licked over her skin. The cold water of the pool helped. Only a little, but it helped.

Fresno kept an array of pool floats down in the bay with the jet skis and had been more than happy to fetch a neon pink one for her. One of the fancy ones that had a cupholder and headrest. Her little plastic cup of whatever Blythe had cooked up was near empty and she didn't much have the stomach for anymore.

"Think about my offer anymore?"

She peeled open an eye in annoyance. Fresno's creeping hand had interrupted yet another of her wet daydreams. She should have probably thanked him. Did all virgins have such scandalous thoughts about the act they hadn't yet committed?

From all her reading and the overly generous insight of her friends, she knew a lot about that intimate act of physicality between two people. She wanted- needed- it to be more than that. Sex couldn't just be some purely physical notion for her. Emotion had to be more present than ever. She wasn't just going to have sex. She was going to make love.

"Didn't realize you were serious." She lied through dry teeth.

He hardly said things he didn't mean. The truth was free and generous with him.

"Never had a cherry before." His fingers squeezed against her kneecap. "I'll be real gentle."

She swallowed thickly. His movements were a part of the act, but she was afraid his words weren't. They were spoken at too low a volume for anyone (Harry) to have heard. The worst thing was that he wasn't being his usual self with a joking tone. He was sincere and almost a little sweet about it. He was making her life more and more difficult by the minute.

"You're being gross, Calv. Knock it off." She jerked her knee and his hand fell.

Unfortunately, she didn't miss the pathetic puppy dog face he pulled. And too bad for him that he was trying to take their charade too far.

"Sorry, babe." He relented with an easy smile. "Just look so good all the time. And that bikini sure isn't helping me any."

That much she knew. It was the best and most flattering swimsuit she owned. Perfectly matched to her eyes. Daringly tight. The bikini had power.

"Mandy picked it out. Cute, huh?" She fingered with the thin strap that sat snug on her shoulder.

On the other end of the pool, Harry and Alyse were engaged in what looked to be a meaningful conversation. Ruby liked that. She liked that her friends liked him and that they were so accepting of him so fast. Much like his friends had been with her.

That was good. Right?

"Cute isn't the word I'd use." Fresno mumbled. "I was going for hot. Drop dead. Heart-stopping." She rolled her eyes. "Not that you aren't always a stone-cold fox, 'cause you are, but that bikini...damn." He bit on the edges of his fisted knuckles and shook his head.

She found his endless swarm of compliments flattering. Each and every one was genuine, and she knew that. But she couldn't help wishing they came from someone else.

Because, love be damned, if Harry uttered anything like that to her, she'd jump his bones instantly. Fear aside and any notion of making love down-pressed. Gentle first time love-making out the window, she'd let him fuck her-."

"CANNONBALL!"

The roaring shout that interrupted another loose thread of carnal fantasy came from Davey, the fifth male on the boat. Another fraternity brother of Phi Lambda Eta. Large, impressive muscles, and imposing body. He barreled towards the pool and jumped. Legs tucked up to his chest. The splash impact sent water all over her. The ripple waves toppled her float and sent her careening into the water.

Possibly a blessing in disguise because the relief and shock of it all further pushed away any of her belligerent thoughts. Still under the water, she tugged her sunglasses from her face so as to not lose them in the chaos.

Two hands wrapped around her biceps and pulled her up into the air. Water dripped down her as she took a welcome breath of fresh air.

"You okay?" Fresno squinted down at her. He pushed her hair back from her face.

She nodded, licking over her bottom lip. "Just a little embarrassed and shocked. I'll survive." She laughed. Davey yelled out an apology that she subsequently waved off. _No big deal_.

What happened next was a very big deal, though.

She was in the process of sliding her sunglasses through her wet hair when Fresno's hands jumped from her arms to the curve where her jaw met her neck. Fingers splayed over wet skin and in soaked hair. He pulled her forward, leaned down, and kissed her. Straight on the mouth.

She stared back, eyes wide, frozen in her place. When he leaned away, eyes still closed in that blissful after moment, she pressed forward with both her hands and shoved him back. Hard.

" _What the fuck_?" She hissed. "What the ever-loving fuck are you doing?"

"It's part of the-."

She cut him off. "No, it's not." She snarled at him. He started towards her and she shoved him back again. "Come near me and I'll break your fucking nose, Calvin." A threat wrapped in a promise. A promise coated with a threat.

She pushed out of the pool and grabbed a fluffy white towel from one of the chaises. She didn't even bother wrapping it around her before storming off towards the stairs that led down into the kitchen and living area. Once inside, she balled the towel up and launched it across the room. And then let out the shrillest little shriek of frustration.

"Angel?"

Her blood, if at all possible, froze.

She heard him pick up the towel and pad over to her with quiet steps. "You cryin'?" Such a soft voice for a soft person.

"No." Her answer was obstinate and clear. Fresno was so not worth her tears. Especially over a stupid kiss.

The towel draped over her shoulders and warm fingers skimmed over her skin. She closed her eyes and allowed a single deep breath fashioned as a sigh.

"Want me to bloody him up for you?" He was in front of her, still sporting that dumb scrunchie. The green of his eyes was soft, moss after rain. Jungle tree leaves. A little sad.

She shook her head with a small smile. "No, thank you though."

Harry smiled back before resting his hand on the back of her head and pulling her in for a hug. The towel fell as she wrapped her arms around his torso. "Should let me anyway." He muttered. "Dude was pawing at you like you were some kinda snack."

She smiled into his chest. "I am a snack, Harry."

Her response earned a jovial snort. "Love, this is the problem. You can't settle for someone who thinks you're a snack. You need someone who knows you're a five-course meal. With an extra healthy dosage of hot sauce."

 _Hot sauce_.

He knew her so well.

Now, if only he knew her interest wasn't really in Fresno. But in him.

_When you stood there_

_Just a heartbeat away_

_When we were dancing_

_And you looked up at me_

_If I had known then_

_That I'd be feeling this way_

_If I could replay_

_I would have never let you go_

_No oh_

_Never have let you go_

_Am I out of time_

"Manning...?"

She didn't bother to lift her eyes from the ocean. She tossed the banana peel in the little white trash can next to the half-moon couch. It had taken a solid hour, but her hair was mostly dry. Time paired with Harry's horrendous jokes had settled her temper.

"Mate." There was a certain warning in the one word that Harry spoke. _Don't, back off_.

Ruby made eye contact with Fresno. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his swim trunks, hair pushed back by aviator sunglasses. He winced as she broke the banana in half.

"Could you give us a minute?" She asked Harry quietly.

He raised an eyebrow but got up nonetheless. She waited until he was safely out of earshot before settling Fresno with the iciest of glares.

"I wasn't kidding about breaking your nose. I've got a pretty solid right hook."

"Don't doubt it. I came to apologize."

She made him stand there and wait. The few tense and quiet minutes where she ate the banana thoroughly, eyes glued to his. After she swallowed the last bite, "Get on with it, then."

"I shouldn't have kissed you."

"No fuckin' shit, Sherlock."

"And I shouldn't have said all that stuff about you bein' a...ya know."

"A nonpracticing Jew?" She quipped.

The comment gave him the leeway and small burst of courage to smile. "A virgin. It's cool, you know. I like that about you."

Her mouth downturned. "You just wanna take the card. Don't lie."

He was cautious in sitting down next to her. There were a few inches of space between them. "I'd never lie to you. Never have before." He said quietly.

Other than the whole kiss incident and his ability to turn anything into an innuendo, he wasn't a bad guy. There were a lot worse people out there. She found herself wishing that she could just turn off whatever feelings she had for Harry, or at least transfer them over to Fresno.

"I mean it." He went on. "I think it's cool that you don't wanna just give it up to anyone. No matter how much I tempt you."

She choked on the very air she was breathing. And there was the old, not-at-all timid in her presence Fresno Fletcher. "Keep tellin' yourself that, big guy." At his edging smirk, she added, "Do not make a comment."

He knocked his knee against hers. "If it means anything, kissing you was pretty smooth on my part." She asked just how he thought that was. "You didn't see his face when you stormed off. Between the two of you, I thought I was a dead man walking."

She glanced in the direction Harry had stalked off to. He was standing with Mandy and Russ. Mandy was chattering off about something, arms gesturing wildly with her words. Russ looked to at least be paying some amount of attention to whatever she was going on about. But Harry...his eyes were locked tight on her. Jaw set firmly, arms folded across his chest. With the scowl settled on his face, he looked dangerous. She had never before imagined a dark side to him, not with his plush attitude and sweet demeanor. But maybe, just maybe, there was a little bit of devil hidden under that angel face of his.

"So, absolutely no chance of you sleepin' in my bed tonight?" Fresno asked, leaning back.

Ruby snorted and shook her head. "In your dreams, Calv."

"Oh, trust me. You will be."

_It's all that I can think about_

_You're all that I can think about_

Nights in the height of summer were never truly cool, not in Los Angeles anyways. There was often a slight breeze or little snip of wind that brought momentary chill, but nothing that ever lasted long enough to dry the thin films of sweat over skin. Nights out on the ocean, however, were completely different. Ocean breezes mixed with the lack of sunlight provided a steady and almost welcome chill. A decidedly splendid opposite from the sweltering heat of the day.

Ruby couldn't decide which strike was first for Fresno. The kiss or not telling her to pack an overnight bag. She had only packed day essentials. She didn't even have any freakin' underwear. She was completely commando under her Nike athletic shorts and oversized UCLA DAD tee. All the bedrooms were taken and that had initially been fine with her. She had been more than happy to bunk on one of the couches inside the living area or maybe even the plush seats inside the theater. At first.

Until she couldn't block out the sound of the waves lapping against the side of the boat. She couldn't keep her eyes from prying themselves open and staring out at the vast expanse of the watery world. And it made her sick that she felt it was staring right back at her.

Which was how she found herself curled up on the deck, hugging a little yellow pillow against her chest as she stared up at the sky. It was a clear night, not a wisp of a cloud in sight. Stars, bright and glittering, littered the night sky. The moon, not a half but not a crescent, nestled up there safe and sound.

"Want some company?"

If it had been anyone else, she would have jumped from her skin. But it wasn't just anyone.

Without an answer, Harry sat down next to her. He had a blanket draped over his shoulders. He spread his arm and covered her in it as well.

"Been out here all night?" She asked what time it was. "Just after two, I think. Woke up and didn't know where you were."

Something unknown edged his words. A tone she couldn't quite place but it sounded like a honeyed mix between concern and distress.

"Couldn't sleep." She supplied him with a half-assed explanation. "Figured I'd come lose myself for a while."

"It helpin'?"

"Not really."

His hand, secured snugly on her upper arm, squeezed minutely. She looked over at him, letting her cheek rest on her knee. "Waited for ya to come to bed, ya know. Fell asleep, though."

At that, her heart gave a little jump. No set sleeping arrangements had been made. Fresno was hiding out in the master cabin; Blythe and Chip had barricaded themselves into a room; Mandy and Russ were sharing; Alyse preferred to bunk alone; Anya and Davey each had a room; and the seventh was where Harry had been sleeping. She knew good and well that she could have asked Alyse to share and it wasn't at all uncommon for her to share a bed with Harry. But after the day's events, she really hadn't wanted to ask him if it was all right.

And he had assumed the whole time she would meander into bed with him. They'd shared a bed at least three times, only once had been truly intentional (the night before in his hotel) and she had whacked him in the face upon waking up.

Truth be told, she hadn't necessarily wanted to share a bed with him. The last half of the day, her brain had been invaded by illicit thoughts of him and she did _not_ want to have a sex dream while he lay asleep beside her. What if she said something? _What if she said his name?_ And he heard? The risk was far greater than the reward (simply being close to him) and she was not putting the metaphorical biscuit on the line. No ma'am, no sir.

"Thought maybe you and your girlfriend would be sneaking into each other's rooms." She teased. "Didn't wanna impose on the love train."

He frowned back at her. "What girl-? Oh, Anya." With a soft roll of his eyes, he shook his head. "Cute, but not interested. Not my type."

She knew all about his type. Anya fit it to the tee. Model gorgeous, slim-straight with killer legs, impossibly perfect bone structure.

"Ah, I forgot. You only go for models and singers." Ruby laughed quietly.

Not aspiring authors who worked way too many hours at a bookstore. Not her.

"Shut it, angel face."

 _Angel face._ That was a new one. He kept little pet names on a swivel and used each intermittently. _Love, angel, Ruby Jane_. Never his though. It was never _my_ love, _my_ angel, _my_ Ruby Jane. And she wanted to be his. A fact that frightened the deep-rooted belief that women were not objects and therefore could not be owned. It wasn't that she wanted him to own her, she wanted him the claim her. Let everyone know she was his...whatever. More than a friend.

"Look." His breath fanned over her ear. His arm was outstretched, finger pointing high in the sky.

She followed the path he had laid out for her. She saw it then, the blaze of light streaking across the sky. "Shooting star." She murmured.

"Make a wish, Ruby Jane."

She squinted her eyes shut. She centered all of her focus and thoughts around one singular word: _courage_. The courage to write the damn book. The courage to look Harry in the face and tell him that she wanted more than friendship with him. The courage to just kiss him. The courage to let down all the walls she had meticulously built over the years. To let him in and let him see the worst parts of her. The dark, ugly, scarred beast that, when rearing its head and baring teeth, would send him running for the hills. Courage to tell him all the things she didn't know how to say. Or maybe she did and just didn't want to hand over secrets that had festered in the dark for so long.

"What did you wish for?"

She opened her eyes. Everything seemed a million times brighter. "If I tell you, it won't come true." And maybe it would all come true. Probably not right then, but in time. All in due time.

"If you tell me, I can make it come true."

Could he? Harry Styles was a lot of things and magical was one of them. But did he have the power to gift her courage, the way the Wizard had gifted it to the Lion? Could he help her find it in herself? And moreover, was she willing to take the chance?

"Then why don't you tell me what you wished for?" She inquired. If he 'fessed up, she'd let it spill. All of it. After all, how damning could all her spiny, sinewy secrets be?

"Nice try, angel face. If I tell you, it won't come true." Her words rang from his mouth.

 _Thank God_ , she was more than relieved. She didn't yet possess the courage to let it all out. She leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. He pulled her as close as she could go before letting his head fall on hers.

_Is your heart taken_

_Is there somebody else on your mind_

_I'm so sorry I'm so confused_

_Just tell me am I out of time_

"D'you know about the man in the moon?" She asked quietly.

"The who?"

She giggled. Exhaustion was finally coming. Slow and creeping with dark tendrils that pulled at the back of her eyelids and the further parts of her mind. It always took its dear, sweet time coming for her. "The man in the moon, Harry. When it's full, it looks like there's a face of a man. From the craters."

"You on acid?"

She laughed, burying her face in the soft material of his shirt. "I'm serious! My dad used to tell me and Grant about the man in the moon when we were little. His name is Giuseppe-."

"Giuseppe? Really?" He breathed a laugh. "Sure ya aren't trippin' on somethin'?"

She shoved her shoulder against his bicep, deciding that was less harmful than plunging her elbow into his side. "He was sent there as a punishment for a crime. He has to live up there all alone and watch as the people down here live together and happy."

Harry dipped his index finger under her chin and lifted her head up slowly. He canvassed her entire face, eyebrows slanted down, irises dark. "That's some depressing shit, angel."

She nodded slowly, though his finger never faltered. "I think that's a punishment worse than death. Solitude. Forever. Told myself I was gonna fly up there and be his friend. No one should ever have to be alone."

Harry's face shifted. His brow lifted just barely, corners of his mouth deepening. "Can I say somethin'? And ya not get angry or lie?"

She said that she'd never lie to him.

"You get real sad when you talk 'bout your dad. Eyes get all glossy and far-away, like you wish you were anywhere but where you are. And you get a little worry-crease, right between your eyes and in the dip of your chin."

It was bound to come up. She knew that, she had always known. Harry liked to talk loved ones. In his letters, he raved about his family. So, he was sure to notice the minimal information that she gifted on her own relations. She provided bits and pieces here and there, enough to satiate the curiosity she was sure he had.

_Courage._

The thing was, she didn't have it. Not enough, anyway. Not the amount she needed to disclose information that other people knew already. And like always, telling Harry was different than telling everyone else. Because he wasn't at all like anyone she had ever met before. And she wanted- needed one person who didn't treat her like a cracked teacup.

"Um," she worried her bottom lip between her teeth before releasing it, "it's just...I'm sorry. Is it okay if we don't talk about that right now? I don't...I-."

He gave her a reassuring squeeze and motioned for her to lay her head back down. She did, resisting the urge to nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. "Whenever you're ready, angel. Not a moment before."

She sighed, breathing in the smell of him. His cologne, salt air and chlorine, thin veil of sweat. His scent changed every day, but there was always a base layer that smelled uniquely Harry. "Can we go to bed? Think I'm finally shutting down."

He was careful getting up. He let the blanket fall around her shoulders as he got to his feet. She took his outstretched hands and let him haul her to her own feet. "Thought you'd never ask. I'm beat myself. Who knew lazing around in the sun was so tiring?"

She snorted. "Literally everyone, H."

_Is your heart breaking_

_How do you feel about me now_

_I can't believe I let you walk away_

_When, when I should have kissed you_

None of the dreams that plagued her had anything to do with Harry. Sexual or otherwise. The unconscious fantasies were all sunflowers and shooting stars, Fleetwood Mac sounding in the backbone of her mind. She woke with the smell of old books still tickling her nose.

No, or maybe that was eggs. It was definitely the smell of eggs sizzling.

"H?"

She reached out and patted an empty space beside her. Empty? Ruby sat up and glanced around the small cabin. Harry was nowhere to be seen. Crawling from the bed, she plucked her phone from the night table and padded from the room.

The kitchen and living area were on the second deck (third if you counted the upper part of the sun deck where the pool and hot tub were), and the cabins were below that. The game room and cinema took residence below the cabins. Below that was the garage for the jet skis.

As she entered the kitchen, she realized that she had slept later than usual. Late enough that literally everyone else was awake.

"Mornin', sunflower!" Harry waved a spatula at her from the stove.

She groaned in response, sliding onto the black leather barstool next to Alyse. "The hell are you guys doing up so early?"

Harry slid her an empty coffee mug. Taking a break from watching the eggs on the stove, he poured steaming coffee into the cup. Alyse passed down the liquid creamer boat and the sugar pot.

"It's nearly eleven." Alyse informed.

 _Eleven_? Holy shit. An endless supply of alcohol and the blazing sun had done a real number on her.

Ruby poured a hefty supply of creamer into her coffee after dolloping four spoons of sugar into the cup. She whirled the spoon around in the cup a couple times before lodging it in her mouth. Perfect taste.

"And you guys just decided to let me waste away?" She glanced back at the rectangular dining table.

Chip was discreetly adding a spoon of sugar to his girlfriend's coffee, her attention zeroed in on cutting her mango into perfect and even slices. Russ was, in a disgustingly sweet manner, popping diced strawberries into Mandy's open mouth. Davey's eyes were glued to a book that had probably never even been opened before that morning. And Fresno, well, his attention had thankfully been diverted to the willing recipient that was Anya.

Fresno glanced up, meeting her eye. He slightly inclined his head towards Anya and then Harry, giving Ruby a half-smile.

Oh, the sneaky fox.

"You didn't move all night. Figured you were exhausted." Harry told her. He placed a plate of scrambled eggs in front of her. From the cabinet next to the fridge, he produced a little bottle of hot sauce and handed it over. "Eat up."

She looked around the room. No one else was eating.

"We ate like an hour ago." Alyse supplied. "Harry makes fantastic pancakes."

She missed out on pancakes? So not fair!

"Want me to make you some?" Harry placed himself on the stool next to her. "Don't mind."

She shook her head as she stabbed her fork into the eggs. "Nah, eggs are good. Thanks." He double-checked before she assured that eggs were plenty enough for her. "What time are we heading back?"

"Next hour or so. There's a big storm supposed to hit around three, I wanna be back before then." Fresno answered.

Perfect. She was in desperate need of a shower and a change of clothes. And underwear. She was not a fan of going commando for hours on end. "These are awesome." She jabbed the fork down into the last bite of eggs. "Wish I could cook eggs like this."

From the dining table, Mandy laughed. "I wish you could cook." Both Blythe and Alyse seconded her statement.

Harry gave her a pitying look and patted her hand. "It's not that bad, love." He murmured, taking her plate. "Could be worse."

Not by a lot, though. There wasn't much room at all for digression when it came to her cooking. It was dismal at best. At worst...well, she didn't want to explore that idea.

_I should, I should oh I should have kissed you_

_I should, I should oh I should have kissed you_

_I should, I should oh I should have kissed you_

_I should, I should oh I should have kissed you_

_I should have kissed you_


	9. Nine: Carolina-Harry// August 4

_She’s got a family in Carolina_

_So far away but she says I remind her of home_

_Feeling oh so far from home_

_She never saw herself as a West Coaster_

_Moved all the way cause her grandma told her_

_Townes, better swim before you drown_

Harry made it a habit of his not to try and dwell on things that stirred up any feelings of discomfort or negativity. He had never liked being conscious of what others thought of him and did his best to ignore the thoughts of people he didn’t know. In the end, he won out. He was finally (mostly) at peace with himself and the person he was and was growing to be. Outside opinions didn’t matter.

Really, Harry Styles just did not like being angry or sad or uncomfortable. All of which were feelings that swelled up whenever he thought of Blythe Osterfeld. One of Ruby’s best friends. One of the most unreadable humans he had ever known. And most definitely someone who’s bad side he did not want to be on.

He had thought maybe they were beginning to be friends- Alyse and Mandy both got on well with him- until she had pulled him aside on the yacht. Away from any overzealous ears, far enough from anyone that they couldn’t be heard. And in the end, he had been right to be worried. 

_“I don’t think you’re good for her.”_

At the bitter memory, he squinted his eyes shut.

_“Ruby likes stability. She needs it. No wavering in and out of her life. And that’s not you, Harry. You’re famous, people everywhere know who you are.”_

The running water of the shower wasn’t even enough to pull him from the thought. The stubborn glaze of Blythe’s stare. Her unyielding opinion.

_“You’re working on a new album, right? That’s what she told us. New album means a tour. And we all know you aren’t staying here in L.A. forever. You have to go back to London at some point. And who knows when you’ll come back.”_

He had been stubborn too. Leaving didn’t mean he was gone forever. There was no way he could stay away from her. In truth, he wasn’t sure how he’d gone so long in the first place. He would go, but he wouldn’t stay gone. And, he assured Blythe, he and Ruby had already had that conversation. Even that didn’t sway her.

_“Just think about what’s best for her, will you? She’s not always as strong as she seems. The last thing she needs is someone who’s traipsing in and out of her life all the time. She needs someone who’s always going to be there.”_

His mind, at that, had immediately jumped to one person in particular. Fresno. The guy had been making moves on Ruby all day. Most of them, she accepted. She flirted back, let him rub his hands over her legs. That was, until he kissed her, and she lost her mind. Harry had feared the worst before the kiss. He’d let his fear get in the way of telling her that he was sure he harbored feelings that surpassed friendship. At his lack of initiative, he had lost her to Fresno. Until the kiss.

 _“She needs someone who’s_ here _. I know you’re a good guy, Harry, and I actually really like you. But I don’t think you’re the type of guy willing to pause your career for some girl you have a crush on_.”

Some girl. A crush. As if Ruby Jane Manning could ever just be some girl, in his world or anyone else’s. As if she wasn’t the most magnetic and compelling person to ever exist. And a crush. A crush! Even if he didn’t possess strong feelings for her, Blythe acted as if Ruby wasn’t his best friend. As if they hadn’t been close friends for nearly fifteen years. That fact alone secured the idea that he could never leave her for long.

And even with his feelings involved, it wasn’t just a crush. Maybe it wasn’t love, but it wasn’t some schoolboy crush either.

_“Just think about it, okay?”_

His eyes opened. He let out a long breath, running his hands through his hair. Harry wasn’t exactly sure of what Blythe was implying or asking him to think about, but there was a strong possibility it concerned his growing feelings for their mutual friend.

 _Don’t tell her_.

Don’t tell her how you feel. That was it. It had to be. So, did…did Blythe know something he didn’t?

Was it at all possible that Ruby felt the same?

 _Stable._ Here. Someone who would be around. That disqualified him. Because Blythe was right. He had to go back to London. Soon, most likely. And when the album was finished (which, at the rate he was churning out songs, it wouldn’t be long ‘til then), and released, there would be a tour. A tour that took up most of a year’s time. 

He knew, though. If there was even the tiniest of chances that Ruby felt the same, he would find a way to stay in Los Angeles. He’d record it all in the city. Short trips back to London when necessary. And when it came to it, he would ask her to go on tour with him. Not for the entire duration because she had a job and responsibilities, but whenever she could. A couple weeks at a time. Maybe a month or two. And when he could, he’d fly out to see her or fly her in to see him.

She did want to see the world, after all. He wanted more than anything to show it to her.

“H?”

Ruby was standing in the middle of the doorway leading into her bedroom. Damp hair hanging on her shoulders. Dressed in white cotton shorts and a purple cropped tee.

“What’re you thinking?” Her head cocked to the side.

“Only ‘bout how long you were takin’ to shower. It’s gonna be night by the time we leave.”

Her eyes narrowed in a playful manner. “Shut up, asshole.” She padded across and sat next to him on the couch. “Shower’s all yours. Hurry up so we can eat.”

Strawberries. He turned to smile at the familiar scent of her shampoo. “Probably no hot water left.” He grumbled, standing up.

She smacked his forearm. “You need a cold shower anyways. I saw all the little looks you were giving Anya.”

Oh, Anya. He shook his head. If only Ruby knew he wasn’t interested in the girl that had been wearing the red bikini, but the girl who’d been wearing the powder blue one.

“So,” the word was drawn out as Ruby swirled her fork around her spaghetti, “do you know when you guys are going back to London?”

Harry stared back at her.

The Pasta Palace was mostly dead for the time of night it was. Very few of the tables were occupied and all the workers looked more than ready to be on their way home. He was beginning to understand that she always suggested restaurants that were lowkey and off the beaten path, which he couldn’t help but think was for his benefit. Not wanting to read too much into it or go down that road, he decided that she simply liked quieter dining spots.

“Not sure.” He finally answered. “It won’t be for another few weeks, I know that.” Another decision was made where he chose against relaying Jeff’s own words.

_I think she’s good for you. Definitely sparking a creative buzz in that magic head of yours._

If he told her that, he’d have to tell her that his last two new songs were inspired by her. For her. About her. And truth be told, Harry wasn’t ready for that.

“Still got time, then.” She smiled before taking another bite of her spaghetti.

Time for what? Maybe she did feel the same and she was racing against her own clock in telling him. Like he was. Because, before he left, he was going to tell her. There was no way he was leaving with that on his heart.

“Can I ask you something?” 

Ruby nodded slowly. “Always.”

He pushed his bowl of alfredo away and took a sip of his water. “I’m gonna have to go on tour when the album’s done. Won’t be for a while but I’ll be gone a few months at least when it comes around.” She glanced up from the bowl of noodles in front of her. The light from the ceiling reflected a glare into the lens of her glasses, rendering him unable to see her eyes. “Was wondering if there was any chance at all you’d go with me. Just even a couple weeks. I know you wanna travel and-.”

“You want me to go on tour with you?”

“Only if you want. For however long you want.”

“For real?”

He nodded. “It’d be a long time without you.” _And I don’t think I’d survive it_.

“Plus, you need your best luck charm.” She grinned.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Right. Most important part. What do ya say?”

She pushed her glasses up into her hairline. There were those eyes, glimmering and bright blue. Dazzling. Heart-wrenching. “Well, obviously, I say yes. When _the_ Harry Styles asks you to join him on a world tour, you simply can’t say no.”

“Ah,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair, “only because I’m me. I see how it is. Only want me for my looks and my status.”

Dramatically, she rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. She reached across the table and wiggled her fingers in his direction. As asked, he took her hand. “Precisely because you’re you. My best friend. Not Harry Styles. Just _Harry_. Your dashing good looks are just a nice bonus.”

His mouth grew to a smile. So, she did think he was attractive! Not just drunken words, but sober thoughts as well. “Dashing, hmm? That’s new.”

“Your ego is entirely unmanageable. I have no clue how Jeff puts up with you.”

Harry was being led down a dimly lit concrete stairwell. He wasn’t sure what had possessed her to lead him to wherever the intended destination was. Five minutes prior, the two had been sitting on her couch watching a movie when her face had lit up like a tree on Christmas morning. Immediately after, Ruby had jumped up and begun to drag him from her apartment.

“Where’re we goin’, sunflower?”

She glanced back at him, half an elated smile on her lips. “Wanna show you something.”

The stairwell was warm and damp with humidity. Only a few minutes in and his neck was already moistened with sweat. His hand was clammy and he desperately wanted to drag it across the leg of his pants but couldn’t bring himself to pull out of her grasp.

The stairwell opened up into the garage of her building. There were several cars that were covered by tarp slips. Others were left vulnerable to the human gaze. Her fingers tightened around his as she skipped through the garage, dragging him behind.

“You’re awful chipper, love.”

“In a good mood. That a crime?”

“How could anything that makes you smile be a crime?”

For half a second, her grip loosened, and her shoulders stiffened. Maybe he was growing too comfortable with his feelings around her. He needed to be more careful when it came to her.

“God, you can be corny as hell. C’mon, almost there.”

Almost there really did mean almost there. Only a few more steps and she halted. He nearly knocked into her back. Her head jerked back, and he was met with the enigmatic gaze of wonder.

“Ready?”

“Long as I’ve got you, I’m ready for anything, angel.”

The corner of her mouth slighted up and she let go of his hand. He took the chance to wipe both hands across the thighs of his pants. He stood patiently as she approached an automobile covered by a dark grey tarp. Very suddenly, she tore the tarp away and let it fall to the concrete ground.

For once, something managed to rip his attention from Ruby Manning.

The car was brilliant in every aspect. Shining and polished. Close to new looking. It was vintage, nowhere close to new, that much he was aware of. Though, he couldn’t tell it. It looked as if it had just come off the lot. The paint, strawberry red, was fresh as could be. Not a spot on it, nor speck of dirt. The wheels were gleaming. Windshield clear. Pristine white leather seats. 

Convertible, top down.

She grinned. “Harry, meet Pearl. My prized possession.”

He gestured towards the car and she nodded. His index finger ran across the top of the driver’s window. “You’ve been holding out on me, Ruby Jane. What’re we working with here?”

She folded up the tarp, tossing it in the backseat. “’65 Mustang. My grandpa gave her to me for my sixteenth birthday. Found her and fixed her up all pretty.”

“Beautiful.” _Just like you_.

“Isn’t she?” Her sigh was content, breathy. “Wanna take her for a spin?”

His breath caught in his throat. When he looked at her, the blue of her eyes was bright. “You want me to drive your car?”

Her hand fished down into the shallow pocket of her cotton shorts. Quickly, she tossed him a set of keys. A little ceramic strawberry was secured to the keyring. In the same swift fashion, Ruby pulled open the passenger door and slid into the leather seat.

“It’s gettin’ kinda late, yeah?” He asked her.

She shrugged, fastening the seatbelt over her chest and around her waist. “Almost sunset. Perfect time for a drive.”

At that, Harry got into the car. He paused after starting the ignition, putting his own seatbelt on. He asked again if she was sure she wanted him to drive her prized car. She placed her hand on top of his that rested on the steering wheel. 

“H, you are the _only_ person I trust to drive this car. Now, let’s go.”

She was right. Which, he was quickly learning, happened quite often. Sunset was the perfect time for a drive. Sky painted fairy blue and baby pink. Orange and yellow clouds. The ocean seemed to stretch on forever as it met the edge of the sky.

Windows down, top down, wind in his hair, music wafting through the stereo. It was a perfect drive along the coast. Ruby was next to him, in the passenger seat. Elbow rested on the door, chin in her hand as she stared out at the horizon. Her hair whipped towards him.

“S’pretty, huh?” He reached over and poked her thigh.

She turned, a goofy smile on her face. “I think Los Angeles is magic.” She said surely. “Something about the sunsets. They aren’t this beautiful back home.”

There was a hint of homesickness in her words. A longing that was present, but not strong enough to warrant the cross-country trip. No hint of sadness on her face. He extended his hand and took hers.

“You move all the way here just for the sunsets?” He teased. She had never opened up and discussed what exactly made her move all the way from the east coast to the west. Perhaps there was no soul-bearing, deep-rooted reason why. Maybe she had just wanted a change in scenery.

“Nah. My Gran told me to get the hell outta Carolina. She said _get out of here before it drowns you_. So, I came as far as I could.”

 _Before it drowns you_. She’d never went into detail about anything that really involved her family. Her dad, her mom, her brother. She stopped herself before she could. As if she had collected it all and built a fortress around it. Anytime she came close to opening the door, she tucked tail and turned around. He had never wanted to press her on it, he knew she would open up when she was ready.

“I never thought I’d move so far, be so far from my family.” She said to him. “But Gran was right.” She went on. “I would’ve drowned if I stayed there. Moving out here was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Ever miss home?” He did. All the time. Movie nights with his mum and Gemma. Revisiting the bakery he used to work at on Saturdays. Peace and quiet.

She nodded slowly. “Sometimes, yeah.” Her voice is low, quiet. Reminiscent of something far off and unreachable. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it once, long and slow. She raised their joined hands and held the back of his against her cheek. “You make it better.”

He didn’t bother fighting the smile that came to his face. “That so?” Even his voice was elated.

She grinned back at him. “Yeah. You remind me of home, H. I feel grounded with you, feet firmly planted. Like I won’t blow away if the wind blows too hard. You…You feel like home.”

Harry drew their hands towards his face. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of her knuckles. Her face softened. “You feel like home too, sunflower.”

_She’s a good girl_

_She’s such a good girl_

_She’s a good girl_

_She feels so good_

“Are you ready for your surprise?”

Harry peeked over the top of his book. They finished recording early and decided to call it a day. Which was why he was sitting behind the counter at Jupiter House reading a biography on Catherine the Great.

“Oh, finally?”

Harry was on edge for this surprise, whatever it was. Ruby has teased him about it relentlessly since he came into the city. No hints offered, no clues given. Whatever the surprise was, it was complete and total.

The corners of her mouth quirked up in a small smile. For someone who hated surprises so much, she sure loved doling them out. “Yes, finally. And if you don’t hurry it up, they’ll close before we get there.”

A place. She was taking him to a place. Of what kind, he had no clue. Probably not a restaurant. She had shown him Ramen on Greene, her favorite place to eat in Los Angeles. Most definitely not a bookstore. Jupiter House seemed to be her preferred sticking place, just after her own flat.

Harry closed the book and left it on the shelf under the counter where he had found it. Ruby slung her bag over her shoulder, and he saw those two notebooks knock together. She hadn’t mentioned her book in a while.

“Still writing?” He asked as he followed her to the door leading out to the street.

She swung the door open and let him out first. He waited patiently as she locked the door firmly. “Eh. In a rut right now.”

Ah, writer’s block. He knew it all too well. A monster in the form of a blank mind. A hole you can’t climb out of. A clear visual of where exactly you want to be and no clear way to get there.

“Can I help?” It was natural, just like breathing, the way he slid his arm around her shoulders. No thought at all, just action.

Harry was sure that, never in his life, he had ever been this comfortable with someone else. Not his mum or sister, any of the guys from the band (current or past). No one. With her, everything was as easy as taking his next breath. Well, most things.

It was difficult, more so with each passing day, for him not to spill his heart out to her. He constantly found himself wanting to confess to feelings he didn’t quite understand. On one side, she was his best friend. Someone he’d known for more than half his life. The one who knew pieces of him no one else ever saw. He knew he could tell her anything. Which was precisely why he couldn’t tell her how he felt.

There were too many variables. Too many ways for them both to end up hurt. And while he didn’t care so much about the breaking of his own heart, he couldn’t put hers on the line. Blythe herself had told him that Ruby wasn’t always as strong as she seemed. He never knew if the walls she put up to guard her heart were in place to keep things out or to keep things in.

He wasn’t sure it was love. Yes, Harry has been in love before. Countless times. Some more than others. Some just inklings of that heart-thundering feeling. A glimpse into what could be. With Ruby, everything is different.

At some times, he feels overwhelmed with his emotions towards her. It swells over him like the wave of a tsunami, caresses over him until he’s drowning in it. When she cries and he makes silent promises to never be the reason for her tears. When he’s so caught up in her, the only release he can find is to put pen to paper and create a song from his emotions.

Other times, it’s but a soft whisper on his skin. The gentle tickle of the breeze when the wind blows through. Her smile. The melody of her laugh. Four gentle wrinkles dented in her forehead when she’s reading. The murmur of his name on her lips.

So, Harry was not sure it was love. He knew it was something. Something much stronger, bolder, deeper than an old tie of friendship. Than almost eight hundred letters each sent over fourteen years. It may not have been love, but he knew he’d never want to go a day without hearing her voice.

Her hands are warm over his eyes. She had been absolutely insistent that he didn’t see the place until she was ready. The few rings that adorn her fingers are a cool contrast to her clammy hands. She’d covered his eyes about two minutes ago, once they rounded a street corner. Vision obscured, everything around him feels _louder_. The people walking by them, bits and pieces of their conversations to be heard for the taking. Bleeting car horns and angered drivers. Music from stores and shops.

“Ready?” Ruby’s voice is a whisper against the shell of his ear.

He nodded, unable to find words to voice his excitement for the occasion. This was something she had dangled in front of him for weeks. To finally know what it was…

His eyes remained closed as she lifted her hands from his face. He felt her hands rest down on his shoulders, fingers gripping softly. The dip of her chin on the blade of his back. “Open your eyes, H.”

He did.

 _Beachwood Café_ , the sign hanging above the shop read. Inside, he could see people sitting around tables, sipping drinks from campy mugs. Shelves around colorful walls lined with books. A coffee shop, he realized.

She squeezed his shoulders. “Come on.” And then, she was in front of him. Grabbing him by the hand and pulling him into the coffee shop.

Harry adjusted his sunglasses on top of his head once they entered. The dark, wide-brimmed hat Ruby wore was slightly askew in an endearing manner. As they waited in line to order, he took in the business.

Comforting, in a way that small businesses could only manage to be. Like being home. It was modern, yes, but with a wide brush of originality. Fun, bright colors. Unusual and unique mugs. Plants galore. Little figurines placed between the books on the shelves.

It reminded him a lot of Ruby. The eccentric green tile backsplash in her kitchen. The mustard yellow flooring in her bathroom. He could see clearly why this was one of her favorite haunts.

They received their drinks quickly, an English Breakfast tea for him and a chai latte for her. As soon as they both had their respective drinks, Ruby grabbed hold of his hand again and led him out to the patio. She picked a table far from the door and they sat.

It was a nice day, beautiful even. For July, it wasn’t very warm. A gentle breeze in the air that, every so often, lifted the ends of her red flannel. The light metal of the chairs was, surprisingly, not very heated by the sun. He supposed the shading of the pastel blue umbrella took care of that issue.

He reached over and adjusted her hat, once again perfecting the angle. She hadn’t once removed her dark tinted sunglasses, not even when they were inside. It appeared as if she were the famous one of the two of them, shying from the limelight.

In turn, she too leaned across the table and placed his sunglasses over his eyes. “You know,” she sighed, leaning back in her seat, “this is my favorite place in Los Angeles.” Both hands curved around the large mug on the table. “It’s just…serene. I can read, if I want. I can write, sometimes.” There was a peaceful smile on her face, the kind one wears when remembering a fond memory.

“And you’re sharing it with me?” He asked quietly. Most people had spots like this, ones they kept close to their hearts. Secrets they didn’t share with anyone else. He had one himself, back in Cheshire. And yet, there she was, sharing it with him. “Don’t wanna keep it to yourself?”

“Why wouldn’t I want to share my favorite place with my favorite person?”

He didn’t have an answer to supply her with. The flattery of being recognized as her favorite person was enough to shock him silent.

“You asked me earlier if you could help me.” She said, tapping fingers against the table. “With my writer’s block.”

He nodded. Writer’s block was a fickle, unfriendly thing. He had fallen victim to it many a times in the past. Less so lately, with her around. It seemed as if she was a muse of ancient times, sparking lyrics from him like flint for a fire. 

From her bag, she drew her blue journal. The one that contained the book. She kept a slip of paper between each of the pages to keep from ink bleeding and smearing. From her bag, she drew another notebook. This one black, small, new. Unopened. Leatherbound. She produced two pens.

“Write with me.” She slid the leatherbound journal and one of the pens towards his half of the table.

He picked up the pen, fiddling it between his fingers. “Write…with you?”

She flipped open her notebook. He could see where she had left off the last time. Words were struck out, notes in the margins. “We’ve never written together. So, I’ll try to write my book if you try to write a new song.”

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been on fire while in the city. As if he weren’t churning out new songs at rapid pace. Jeff was eating it up, this newfound inspiration that came from her. He eyed the pen, the journal, her face.

_Write with me._

Writing songs was something personal. Raw emotion put into words. At least, it always had been for Harry. He poured everything into songs. On occasion, he did it with someone else. Or wrote one for someone else. But those were always other musicians. People who understood how songwriting went, how it could go.

To do that with her, to write a song as she sat across from him, it almost made him nervous. They would be inking their hearts onto paper in different manners, at the same time. Easily, it would be the most intimate non-sexual thing he had ever done with anyone else.

“H…?”

The end of her pen tapped against the hollow of her cheek.

“Let’s get to it, sunflower.” He grinned.

She was a habitual mumbler. It was something he had noticed several times over. Mostly, it happened when she was writing. Quiet words, only for her, under her breath. He could never make them out, but he knew they were there.

He glanced up at her. She was writing furiously. Scribbling words and then scratching them out, only to rewrite something similar. Those little wrinkles etched into her forehead in thick concentration. He smiled to himself as his phone buzzed.

A text from Jeff.

 **Where are you?** 2:12 p.m.

He gnawed on the inside of his jaw before typing a quick reply.

 **Writing. Being very productive today, promise!** **J** 2:13 p.m.

He wasn’t sure if the emoji made the text more or less sarcastic. But he hoped Jeff knew he was being sincere. It was when he decided to take a break from the blocked lyrics on the page that he saw her from the corner of his eye. She put the pen down, rolled her wrist, and reached for the coffee mug.

In a split second, decision, Harry snapped the photo.

“Did you just take a picture of me?” She put the mug down. The accusing glare was shielded by her sunnies, but he knew it was there.

“Maybe.” He whined out.

“Harry!”

He flipped his phone around so she could see. It was, if he did say so himself, a very classic photo. “Think ya look pretty nice m’self.” He mumbled.

She dipped the dark glasses down the slope of her nose to further inspect. Mouth pursed, she hummed a little. “It’s not bad…”

Satisfied with the answer, he once again looked at the picture in question. Most of her facial features were obscured by the glasses and the mug. The only true defining feature was the color of her hair.

It had to be said that Harry had good ideas and he had bad ones. More good than bad, if you were to ask him. And since he was confident about that fact, he decided to break a rule he’d set for himself.

He tended to be very private about his life and any and all relationships. He didn’t gossip about them, not in interviews or otherwise. Always careful to keep things to himself. He rarely posted on social media, unless to promote something or speak out against an injustice. There was safety in keeping everything private, out of the public eye. They received so much of him, had for years, it was nice to cradle some things close to his chest. And he didn’t feel as if that was selfish in any way.

And normally, he would be that way when it came to her. The problem was, everyone was already aware of her existence in his life. Their little escapade to the boardwalk had done that secret in. The day after, she was plastered over every tabloid available for print. He had thought he was making the situation better when he posted a photo of them at his concert, assuring the world they were only friends. He knew just how…intense some fans could be.

The last thing he wanted was for Ruby to receive threats.

But it was Ruby. His best friend. He wanted the whole world to know that. To see their bond and how truly special it was. To see her through his eyes, rose-tinted glasses and all. Love her the way he did.

Maybe that was why he got on Instagram and posted the picture of her. He wouldn’t entertain any other idea. Certainly not that he wanted everyone to know how lucky he was to be around her. Definitely not that he wanted the world to be jealous of him for it.

No. Never.

He was putting his phone away when hers buzzed with the notification. She peeked at the phone and then at him as he picked his pen back up.

She said nothing, but he didn’t miss the small smile playing her lips.

And so, he found his next lyric.

_Be so sweet if things just stayed the same._

_She’s got a book for every situation_

_Gets into parties without invitations_

_How could you ever turn her down_

_There’s not a drink that I think could sink her_

_How would I tell her that she’s all I think about_

_Well I guess she just found out_

Another day, another batch of flowers. Harry never felt like days passed anymore. He could only tell when he entered Ruby’s apartment and her sunflowers were dried, drooping, and sad. As he had the previous night, which was why he was standing in line at a supermarket with a new bouquet in his hand.

He liked buying her flowers. And yes, he very much liked buying her a new set every time the old ones withered away. He would need to figure out something for when he went back to London. Perhaps striking a deal with a florist to deliver them every so often?

In his pocket, his phone buzzed.

No surprise there, a text from Jeff.

 **Take the rest of the day off. Did good yesterday.** 3:48 p.m.

Thank Christ, an early end to the day.

He had turned in part of the song he started yesterday. He wasn’t completely sure what direction it was going on or even totally aware of what it was about. He knew for a fact that this song, like the others he had written for the new album, were about Ruby. And he knew that when he started penning down lyrics, the only image he’d held of her in his mind was of them driving down the coast in her convertible. Allowing him a sneak peak inside of her, a little sliver of her soul. A glimpse beyond the wall.

He simply liked Jeff message as a response, emphasizing it with a thumbs-up. The real text, however, went to Ruby.

 **Meet you at your apartment? Got a surprise for you.** 3:50 p.m.

Her reply was immediate.

 **Perfect. I have one for you too. Dress casual.** 3:50 p.m.

Harry was sure he owned nothing of the sort.

His most ‘casual’ outfit consisted of low-heeled Gucci boots, straight-legged brown pants, and a broad-sleeved tank shirt with a blue and red sunset mural. For flare, he added a white beaded necklace that hung low around his neck, past the neckline of his shirt.

“Your definition of casual and mine are very different.” Ruby shrugged on a faded denim jacket. There was a stone of truth to the statement. Her outfit of the jacket, a simple black tank top, and a yellow and white plaid miniskirt, paired with plain white canvas shoes, was actually casual.

“To be fair, you hadn’t disclosed our destination when I got ready.” He pointed out as she placed the new bouquet of sunflowers in a vase. The _Twilight_ movie cup had long since been abandoned for an actual vase. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

Ruby flashed a brief, mad grin as she slung her purse over her shoulder. He followed her out of the apartment and waited as she locked the door. “We, my friend, are going on a covert mission.”

Nothing about that said it was remotely a good idea.

“Um, to where…?”

She took out her phone as they made their way to the elevator. “Malibu. Blythe called in a favor.”

Which meant this was definitely not good. Harry was still shaken from his last encounter with the uptight ginger. Another so soon probably wouldn’t be good for his health.

“Did I tell you about Chip’s ex?” She asked, stepping into the elevator. Harry shook his head no. He didn’t remember if she had. “Her name’s Francesca. She just came back from England. She’s throwing this little...get together tonight and she invited Chip. B can’t go because of a work thing so she asked me to go and…-.”

“Spy on him?”

Ruby laughed quietly, shaking her head. “She trusts Chip. Francesca…not so much. There’s a lot of stuff and I think she wants to make sure she has nothing to worry about.” From her purse, her phone let out a soft ding. Her face pulled together in a frown and he asked what was wrong. “B said it’s a ‘private’ affair, invitations or something. Shit.”

“So, we’re not going?”

When she looked back at him, her eyes glinted. He recognized that look. Pure and total mischief doused in cornflower blue. She typed a quick response before sliding her phone back in her pocket.

“Oh, we’re going.”

Harry had seen Chip Wolcott only twice before. At a low-key but wildly amusing Beverly Hills house party where he had also inadvertently met Ruby. And at a party on a yacht. The party he was currently trying to enter wasn’t even close to being in the same category as the last. The only pieces it held in common were the facts that Chip Wolcott would be in attendance and so would Ruby.

In all truth, he wasn’t sure how they were going to get in to the party. Blythe had told Ruby it was a private affair. That, to Harry, meant an invitation was needed. And he wasn’t certain the old I-forgot-my-invitation trick was going to do the job.

The house was huge. Not as outlandish as some celebrity houses he had seen and it was nowhere near a rival to Fresno’s Beverly Hills mansion, but it was massive. Right on the ocean, no neighbors close by. Harry couldn’t lie: he was a little confused as to how Ruby’s path crossed with this one. He knew she and Blythe had been sorority sisters in college, but their lifestyles were insanely different.

“So, what exactly is the plan here?” He asked as she crawled out of the Uber. “We don’t have an invitation.” He followed out after her, waiting for a reply as she adjusted her purse.

“Yeah, see, that’s the thing.” She smiled as they approached the door. “I don’t have a plan.”

If his eyes could have bugged from his head, they would have. If she didn’t have a plan, how were they supposed to get inside?

“I-Ruby, then how-?”

Her hand, fisted and sharp against the door, knocked twice. Short and concise. Loud enough to be heard over the gentle thrum of music inside. 

“Follow my lead.” She said before the door swung open. They were met by an austere woman. Dressed plainly in pressed khaki pants, a pale blue polo. A single stranded pearl necklace with matching earrings. “Mrs. Morrison, hello.” Ruby gave the woman a simpering smile.

How she knew that this woman was Francesca’s mother, he had no idea. Ruby had never met Chip’s ex, so she had clearly done her research. His little stalker.

“Have we met?” The woman peered at them. He could feel her scouring over their appearances. The skirt that barely brushed the middle of Ruby’s thighs. Her beat-up white slip-ons. His own pearl necklace. The tattoos that littered his skin. Remnants of pastel nail lacquer over his fingernails.

They were very clearly not people her daughter associated with. And therefore, not invited to this party. But she was going to be much too polite to say so.

Rather forcefully, Ruby grabbed on to Harry’s hand. “No, actually. But I know Chess.” _Chess_?  
“You do?” Mrs. Morrison glanced between them. The look was skeptical at best. “And how would that be?”

Francesca Morrison. Chess.

Oh, no. God, they needed to leave. Immediately.

“We had New Testament Studies together at Sister Lucia’s.” Mrs. Morrison raised an eyebrow. He knew that look. She was halfway to buying into the story. Selfishly, he hoped she didn’t. He could _not_ go into that house. “I was only there for a short time. My father and I moved after my mother passed away.”

And…there it was. The buy-in. Everyone loved a sob story and no one would question the death of a parent. Mrs. Morrison’s face softened.

“Oh, dear, I’m so sorry.” She actually clutched her pearls.

Ruby nodded and whispered a thank you. “Chess and I lost touch after. I saw online that your family moved back here, and Chess was having a little get together and well, I just couldn’t resist stopping in…”

It was that very moment that he regretted doubting her ability to sneak in. Not only because she had come up with such a lie on the spot and was undeniably great at selling it, but also because Mrs. Morrison stepped aside and ushered them in.

“I was just leaving for my Bridge Club. I’ll let you surprise her.” She reached out and took Ruby’s free hand. Gave it a motherly squeeze. “If you ever find yourself in need of some motherly…” a sly look at Harry, “advice, please feel free to call on me, my dear.”

It was with those words that she slid past them and closed the door.

Harry stood and stared at his best friend with wide eyes. Promptly and rightly impressed with her world class sneaking ability and also frazzled because they needed to go. Right then. But she had worked so hard to get them inside. Well, kind of. She hadn’t even broken a sweat doing so. Which led him to think: how often had she done this before?

Ruby exhaled softly. “So?” She nudged her shoulder against his. “What’d you think?”

“You terrify me.” His reply was honest. There were so many things he still didn’t know about her. Something new appeared from beyond her fortress each day and took his breath away. He supposed one day, they would be ninety and she’d still be surprising him. He liked that.

“Good.” She didn’t let go of his hand. “We should find Chip.”

The odds were slim that they’d make it the entire night without running into the hostess, but he hoped they wouldn’t.

It was a small, intimate event. Less than fifty people. He knew immediately that the two of them would be the odd ones out. It was all modest dresses, khaki pants, button-downs, and polos. And then…them. Music chill and welcoming. Something classical, with few or no words at all.

“I think maybe we should leave.” Harry whispered down to her. “I don’t think she’s the type to make a move on-.”

“ _Harry_?”

In sync, they both stilled.

No, no, no.

Instinctively, Harry tightened his hold on Ruby’s hand. He snuck a glance down at her before turning to face the entire reason he had wanted to leave the party. Francesca Morrison.

It should be noted here that while her parents thought her an angel and one Mrs. Osterfeld believed she walked on water, Francesca was not as sweet-natured and demure as portrayed. She was, to be honest, quite the opposite.

“Oh, my goodness. It is you.” The smile she gave was forced and heavy-handed.

She looked exactly the same as she had two years ago, the last time he saw her. Mane of dark hair held back from her face by a thick headband. A dusting of freckles over her nose and cheeks. Sterling, steel grey eyes that always saw and never missed. She looked out of place among her own party guests in her pale pink cocktail dress. The low heels paired gave her the air of a 1950s housewife.

“Chess, hey.” His smile was anything but steady.

It became very apparent that she and Blythe were cut from the same cloth but had been used to create two very different sweater sets.

Francesca’s eyes flickered to Ruby. The slow drawl in which she investigated her choice in clothing. They were more than out of place and she was relishing in it. “I heard you were in Los Angeles.” She averted her gaze back to him.

He nodded solemnly. “How, uh, how’ve you been?” He hated small talk. Even more, he hated small talk with people he didn’t necessarily like.

She was in the midst of droning about her new position with her father’s company when Ruby’s free hand jutted forward. “I’m Ruby.” It wasn’t said through gritted teeth, but he didn’t need that to know she was clearly annoyed by the lack of introduction.

Francesca made no move to shake her hand. “Francesca Morrison.” Attention turned back to Harry, “What are you doing here?”

That he did not have an answer for. He clearly wasn’t there for her and he definitely wasn’t going to lie and say he was. She had no idea who Ruby was. They weren’t about to spill the beans and tell her they were spying on her to make sure she didn’t make a move on her ex-boyfriend.

“It was my idea.” Ruby intervened. They both whipped to stare at her. “Harry’s told me so much about you and I _had_ to meet you.” This girl of his was an expert liar. He wouldn’t be surprised if she turned out to be some kind of MI-6 operative or something. “Just wanted to put a face to the name.”

Not that it wasn’t untrue. But he had never spoken of her to Ruby before. Or anyone, really. It was a time he would have liked to keep repressed.

Francesca smiled softly at them. Somewhere between flattered and amused; believing every word Ruby spun. “Cute.” She drawled. “Harry, it’s been two years. I’ve moved on, maybe you should as well.”

Until that moment, he had been sure Ruby had guessed the connection. But when she dropped his hand and took half a step away, he knew he had been wrong. 

They’d never talked about exes before. The need to never came up. They were friends and more than likely always would be. Harry himself had been too afraid to ask her, but she had provided information willingly. She’d never had a serious boyfriend. Never found herself avalanching off the precipice of love. Somewhere he had found himself too many times.

Not, for the record, with Francesca Morrison.

“Feel free to stay as long as you want.” It was a breeze of a phrase and then she was gone from them.

Ruby rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. The silence between them sat thick and heavy; suffocating. “Ruby-.”

“I should go find Chip. I’ll uh, I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

Against his better judgment, with every bone and nerve screaming _don’t let her walk away_ , he did just that.

_She’s a good girl_

_She’s such a good girl_

_She’s a good girl_

_She feels so good_

_She feels so good_

Harry knew better than to approach her prematurely. Which was why every time he saw her, he only spared a glance- albeit, a look that never failed to linger less than a handful of seconds. Each time, she was somewhere else. Never seeming to be outwardly displeased, but he was acutely aware of her tight-faced try-hard smile; but never alone.

People gravitated toward her as if she were the sun and they were the planets. In awe, in orbit. Even that mercurial smile drew in admiration, for they weren’t aware of the hidden mirth.

At one point, as he tried his best to avoid the torrential path of Francesca, he found Ruby inspecting the bookcase that lined the study wall. The only person in the room, not even remotely aware of the fact she was being watched, she studied the shelves. And he studied her. A heavy freedom came in watching her when she had no clue. She became a stranger to him, and maybe, possibly, she always was.

Just a girl he knew on the outside. No clue of the hurricane spiraling inside.

People, Harry had come to realize, were like houses. You could analyze the outside all day long. Take in the shutters, pristinely cleaned; freshly painted doors; power-washed siding; and newly scraped gutters. The outside of a house could be a beautiful and misleading thing. You never know what you’re in for until you step inside.

He found this same fact to apply to people. Nicely done up on the outside with their hair combed back and glittered eyelids, fancy clothes, and painted lips. You can’t know a person, not really, until you know their favorite song to listen to when sad, the snacks they require during a movie, their all-time favorite book. Books and music, lyrics and words, they all provide a clean-cut view to the heart. Much like windows with houses.

Except for her. Not Ruby. There was the possibility, he had entertained, that she enjoyed making an enigma of herself. Much like the moon, part of her would always remain hidden. He knew that playing _Here Comes the Sun_ would make her smile on even the worst day. He knew to always have Red Hots and Twizzlers prepared in the case of an impromptu movie night. And he knew a first edition copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ was something she wanted more than anything. All the things it took to read someone’s heart and he was nowhere close to knowing hers.

Fragments of her were available for him. For the outside world. It left him to wonder if anyone had ever known her, if anyone ever would. Each time he felt close to falling over the edge of her fortress, he was knocked back down.

He left her then, to her own devices. Her chosen seclusion to a room filled with endless stories. A safe haven from a world neither of them belonged.

“Why are you here?” Francesca stood in front of him. Quicksilver eyes burning into his own gaze with flagrant disapproval.

Harry didn’t often find himself regretful of relationships. Each was one to be treasured and learned from in its own way. Each was an experience he was thankful for. That was, to be said, each except for his brief- very brief- dalliance with one Francesca Morrison. A one-month fling during a rare time he was in London and had no responsibilities. In truth, the relationship hadn’t been anything to write home- or Ruby- about. And had Francesca not been…Francesca, maybe it would have gone somewhere serious.

Unceremoniously rude, drawn to the appeal of dating someone of international repute, jarringly anal about all things, and surreptitiously close-minded. All things Harry couldn’t deal with. He tried to, for a few weeks. Until she made the comment about Mitch’s hair, at which he lost his cool- something that occurred very rarely- and spoke words that would have made Gemma blush.

“In L.A.?” His eyes roamed over the sitting room. She wasn’t to be found among the small crowd gathered there. He did, however, spot one Chip Wolcott, who he recognized from a photo and the party where he first laid eyes on Ruby. Chip seemed to be entirely unconcerned with his whereabouts, eyes glued to his phone as he rapidly texted. Blythe, if Harry had to guess. “Recording some stuff.”

“At my house. Why would I care if you were in L.A.?” Francesca rolled her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest, huffing out a sharp breath. “Unless…Are you stalking me?”

He fought the groan but allowed his eyes to close in the frustration of it all. Ruby upset with him for a reason unknown, simply being in the presence of an ex, and the stiff atmosphere of said ex’s get together. 

“Hello?” Francesca snapped her fingers. Close to his face, he judged by the harsh sound and vibration.

He was right, he realized upon opening his eyes. Her fist was only an inch from his face. “Why the hell would I stalk you?” The words are spoken, acidic and cold. That time, he doesn’t fight off the groan. After rubbing the bridge of his nose, “Look, we were just party crashing. Didn’t know the place was yours ‘til we got here.”

She didn’t appear to believe a word of it. It’s an honest answer, the whole of it. Harry hadn’t had a single clue it was her house until they arrived. And, they _were_ party crashing. “Whatever.” She juts her chin to the side, focusing her attention elsewhere.

She loved to play mad and to play victim. The slightest inconvenience was detrimental to her in every way. If the coffee shop ran out of soy milk, she was close to perishing on the spot.

He took his phone from his pocket, sneaking the time. It had been about twenty minutes since he last saw her, in the study. And, it was closing in on ten. A good time to leave.

When he looked up from his phone, Francesca was glaring at him. Ah, right, lack of attention. How rude of him.

“Have you seen Ruby?” He placed his phone back in his pocket. “Think it’s time we head out.”

“No,” she drew the word out, “I haven’t seen your girlfriend.” The corner of her mouth irked up in a familiar tease. “She was probably so pissed you didn’t tell her about us that she ran off in those discount sneakers.”

Harry didn’t take well to a short number of things. Typically, he found himself forgiving and quite genial. However, when it came to the handful of things that caused him to become upset, his temper then existed on a rather short fuse. At the top of that list sat the disrespect of his loved ones. Close friends and family. Harry would not, had not, and would never tolerate someone’s ill-mannered words towards his loved ones.

And in his book, taunting the state of his angel’s shoes was callous disrespect.

Had Francesca Morrison had the ill luck of being a man, Harry would have punched her. Not usually a violent person, vision of red did overtake him on the rare occurrence. But to her blessing, Francesca was a woman and therefore, Harry wouldn’t lay a hand on her. Words, however…those were another matter.

“Francesca, she’s a thousand times the person you’ll ever be.” Somehow, his voice managed to come across calm and steadied. “Just because you use money to cover up the fact that you’re lonely and you’re a spiteful bitch, doesn’t mean everyone else does the same.”

Those steel eyes slant down, the beast fully awoken. She hated to be ignored, even more, she hated to be talked down to. “So, she _is_ your girlfriend, then?”

Of course, that would be her main takeaway.

“No,” he sighed, “Ruby’s not my fucking girlfriend.” No matter how much he wanted her to be.

She gained a step closer to him. A manicured hand wrapped around the curve of his elbow. Same perfume as always, ginger and lemon, like an herbal tea. “Good.” She squeezed, just barely. “You know, I missed you.”

There was no way. No fuckin’ way she was doing that. Hitting on him after demanding he move on. When there had been no feelings to move on from in the first place.

“Come on, we can sneak up to my room. No one will miss us.” In a haunting rendition, she rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. “Just like old times.”

He was in the process of pushing her back as she leaned closer. Other hand curled around the hook of his shoulder, fingertips digging into his skin. Truly trying to get away when it happened.

“Harry, can we-?”

Fuck. Him.

Perhaps, at that very moment, the world froze. And when it restarted, it began again in slow motion. Because the second that it took for him to look from Francesca, pressed around him, to Ruby, it felt like a year. The worst year of his life. From her startled, deer-in-headlights eyes to the book clutched to her chest.

No time was given for him to make an explanation or spill a single word. All in another second, this one moving at the speed of light itself, she was back to him and leaving the room.

“Not your girlfriend?” Francesca was backing up all on her own. “Someone should tell her that.” She tittered a laugh.

Biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood, Harry turned away from her. To Francesca, life was a deck of cards at a casino and she was the dealer. People’s lives were hers to do with as she pleased.

He didn’t say a word in reply. Harry darted from the room, following the same jettisoned path Ruby had cut through the ever-waning crowd. It was straight, narrow. No weaving around others. One clear shot to the back-lawn patio. In the dark, the only indication of her direction was the squelch of her shoes against wet stone. The pool provided light, but much. Enough that, when she drew near it, he made out her silhouette.

“Angel, Ruby, what you saw, it wasn’t…” There’s no reason to explain himself. Ruby wasn’t his girlfriend, as Francesca plainly stated. He knew he didn’t have to provide her an explanation; it wasn’t warranted. But he definitely didn’t want her to think he had any interest in his ex.

He drew upon her by the edge of the pool. Close enough then to see her. The lit reflection of the water’s movements on her face. The dance of blue tints and waves in her eyes.

“I don’t care, Harry.” She didn’t look at him. Cool blue eyes trained on the water’s surface, mouth returning to that taut purse. “Friends don’t judge friends for their bad taste in partners.”

Which, in itself, sounded like a pass of judgment.

“Ruby, I promise, I’ve got no interest in her.” He groaned, reaching for her hand. She denied the physical tether, moving her hand behind her back. “I very seriously could not care less about her.”

“Did you know it was her? Before we got here, did you know I was spying on your ex-girlfriend?”

“Not ‘til we got in the house, when we met her mum at the door. And, angel,” he didn’t move to touch her again, but he kept his gaze glued to her pensive features, “she wasn’t ever my girlfriend. We didn’t date.”

That time, she looks at him. Inquisitive touch in her eyes, shoulders lax. “You didn’t?”

He shook his head quickly. He hated to reveal the true nature of his relationship but the last thing he wanted was Ruby thinking he ever felt strongly for Francesca. “No. We just…fooled around for about a month. Wasn’t ever serious.”

She sighed, all tension disappearing from her body. “Thank God. I was gonna hate to tell Blythe you were in love with her mortal enemy.” She knocked her shoulder against his. 

Harry narrowed his eyes. That wasn’t all it. Was it? That couldn’t have been the only reason she was upset. There had to be a reason Francesca played her little game. She didn’t do them just for fun. There was always a play at hurting someone.

“Sure you weren’t insanely jealous?” He joked. Part of it was a joke, it had to be. If it wasn’t, he was baring too much and he couldn’t be rejected by her. He couldn’t lose her.

Ruby guffawed a laugh. “Me? Jealous of her? She fuckin’ wishes.” She snorted, rolling her eyes. “I’d rather have my _discount sneakers_ than those ugly ass kitten heels.” She didn’t forget to mention that her shoes were ones she paid full price for. Not that Harry cared in the least because shoes were shoes and although he had a particular proclivity for high end fashion, he was very aware Ruby didn’t care about what shoes she wore.

“So, you heard.” He stated blankly. “You heard me defend said sneakers, right? You got that part?”

She looped her arm around his after dropping her book in her purse. Pulling him away from the pool, they began to walk towards the back gate. “I did, thank you. Spiteful bitch was a nice touch.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” He smiled as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

With one arm linked through his and the other curled around it, she walked attached to him. Head rested against his upper arm, the subtle aroma of strawberry shampoo wafting in the air.

“Harry?” He hummed in response. “Next time you tell someone I’m not your girlfriend, try not to sound so relieved about it, will you?”

_I met her once and wrote a song about her_

_I wanna scream yeah_

_I wanna shout it out_

_And I hope she hears me now_

“I still can’t believe you fucked Francesca Morrison.” Ruby muttered, kicking her shoes off. “Regularly.” Mouth puckered with distaste, she hung her purse over the hook. She padded into the kitchen as he made his way to the couch. As the refrigerator swung open, “So, you didn’t, um…you two weren’t…” she fell silent, words lost among the rattle of glass bottles, “you didn’t love her?”

Love was not a word he would put in any sentence with Francesca. Morrison’s name. He didn’t think she was capable of it and he wasn’t sure anyone possessed the correct level of self-deprecation to subject themselves to loving her. That was a task only reserved for those who hated themselves more than anyone and had no acute sense of dignity or self-worth. If they did possess those qualities, she would be sure to stamp it out of them within a week.

“No, I didn’t love her.” Harry replied as she joined him on the couch. Both hands held the neck of a bottle. What he had originally thought would be beer, proved to be something else entirely. A clear glass bottle with a white label, _Cheerwine_ printed in looping red letters. “Wha’s this?”

“Cheerwine.” She answered in a dull tone. Positioning the cap of her bottle against the edge of the coffee table, she jammed her open palm down against the cap. With a splitting _crack_ sound, the metal cap popped off, landing on the other edge of the table.

Full of surprises, she was. Something new every day.

“Never had it.” He told her.

Was it actual wine? Were the States selling wine in the same fashion they sold beer and wine coolers? They were constantly doing something different. He judged the red liquid. It didn’t necessarily _look_ like wine. But he knew all about judging books by their covers. 

“You’ve been to the. U.S. how many times and you’ve never had cheerwine?”

He said nothing as she swapped her bottle with his. The unopened bottle hung over the floor, her fingers hooked around the neck dangerously loose. She gestured flippantly to the bottle now in his own grasp. _Drink_ , her face said. 

He’d never been one to disobey an order from a beautiful woman.

The first thing he thought was _sweet_. Saccharine and overwhelming. Liquid sugar that frolicked over his tastebuds before fizzling down the back of his throat. Decadent cherry bubbles coated each inch of his mouth, even after he swallowed the liquid down. Curious, he took a second drink, needing to know if each drink would be the same as the first.

Four carefully slow drinks later, each spent holding the liquid in his mouth until the taste dissolved along with the carbonation, Harry decided that he liked cheerwine.

Somewhere between his fascination and the very first drink, Ruby had popped the cap off her own bottle. She leaned against the arm of the couch, one leg tucked up under her and the other stretched toward him. “I’m guessing you like it.” She smiled, leaning her head back to take a penultimate sip from her bottle. 

“S’good. Really good.” He nodded. “Been hidin’ it from me the whole time, then?”

Ruby snorted, placing her empty bottle on the coffee table. She tucked her other leg under her body and pulled the blanket from the back of the couch. “Hardly. Grant sends some every so often. He gets them all the time, thank you’s from customers and stuff who never remember we’re from _South_ Carolina, not _North_ Carolina.” The roll of her eyes was either for dramatics or she was even annoyed at the mix-up. “He doesn’t like it so…” Her hand flourished back toward the kitchen and then to the bottle in his hand.

Grant. The elusive and over-bearing (her words) older brother. Personally, Harry never got the idea that Grant Manning was over-bearing. As far as he knew, the two siblings hardly ever spoke. Ruby didn’t bring him up often, but his name appeared more in conversation than her parents’. It had to say something that her friends liked him. At least, Alyse liked how he looked. Naturally, if he and Ruby shared the same genes, he would be attractive.

“He ever come see ya?” He inquired. She has never mentioned visits, on either end.

She shrugged, turning on the telly. “Sometimes. He comes out for work stuff and we’ll get dinner. Mom’s pretty difficult so I don’t go home a lot. Actually…” she grabbed her phone from the table, eyes scouring the dim-lit screen, “Grant and Talia are coming in a couple weeks. I’m supposed to get dinner with them.”

If Grant was elusive, Talia was non-existent. Harry knew that Ruby’s older brother was somewhat of a serial monogamist. Engaged a handful of times, each less prospective than the last. More than convinced the current woman was the one and only.

“You don’t sound very excited to meet your future sister.” Harry noted, finally finishing his drink.

Ruby shrugged, burrowing further into the blanket. Still in her clothes from the party, she looked more than prepared to sleep as such on the couch. “Can’t really be excited to meet someone I don’t know.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. A bold statement for her to make, considering their circumstance. “You were excited to meet me.” He pointed out to her. “We didn’t know each other before a few weeks ago.”

She paused the television before turning her body to face him. Her glasses had slipped down to the lower part of the bridge of her nose. She cut her eyes down but made no move to adjust her spectacles. “We knew each other.” Ruby stated plainly. “All those letters for over fourteen years and you think we didn’t know each other?”

Maybe she was right. Perhaps the situations weren’t the same. She knew only of her brother’s fiancée by word of mouth from said brother. The two of them had written endless letters for over half their lives. And while they weren’t the soul-baring words that he made music from and she created stories, there was just as much of their personage on those letter pages than any song or book. It was the safety net of pouring your heart to someone you would never know in person, telling a stranger your worst deeds and your darkest hours.

He had every letter she ever wrote him. Stored tidily and safely in a box at the top of his closet in his flat back in London. Cataloged in chronological order, the first letter tucked in the back. A nitpicking suspicion said that she also had all of his letters, because for all the ways they were different, there were a hundred similarities.

“There are a thousand things we still don’t know about each other.” He finally spoke. His mind flashed back to the image of her earlier, secured in that solitary study. The pad of her finger pressed delicately to the spine of a book. Soft features of her face drawn together in deliberate contemplation as she read over the bound titles. Her own book fitted between her arm and chest, a security blanket of paper words. A stranger in the guise of his best friend.

“You’ll never know every single thing about someone.” Ruby told him. “People aren’t really meant to be known. Not by everyone, not by anyone. Everybody has a trillion memories and a billion secrets, eons of lives we’ll never begin to understand. People aren’t meant to be known; they’re meant to be explored.”

 _That so_ , he questioned. Not that it didn’t make sense. No one would ever know everything about a person in their lives. He had never given the idea much thought. He knew there were things he would never know about his mum or Gemma or Sarah. They had secrets they were entitled to take to the grave, same as him.

The problem, he has found, is that he wanted no secrets between he and Ruby. He would tell her everything, she need only ask after. All secrets, like a deck of cards, were on the table for him. If she asked to see his hand, he would show her. No questions asked. And he wanted her to feel the same about him. He wanted her to _want_ to tell him about why her relationship with her mum is strained. Why she doesn’t talk about her father. And though he knew he couldn’t pry those topics from her, as much as he wanted to, he waited patiently to devour each morsel the moment she gave it up.

Little by little, piece by piece. He was a starving man being tossed berries once a day. Sometimes, not even that often.

“Guess I’ll just spend the rest of my life exploring ya, then.” It was said in such an off-hand manner that he didn’t catch the doubled meaning of the words. And if she did, she said nothing of it. No teasing smirk, or low giggle. His slip went entirely unmentioned.

“Is that right?” She mused, unpausing the telly once again.

He nodded. Harry plucked her glasses off her nose and laid them on the table. Knowing her, she would fall asleep on the couch and break them in her slumber. “’Course so. Known you for…well, forever.” He said. “Can’t imagine a life without my Ruby Jane.”

He almost missed the way the edges of her mouth bent in the shyest of smiles. “It would be boring as hell.”

Houses and people are just the same. You can live in a house for your entire life and never know it fixture by fixture, floorboard by creaking floorboard. And you can spend your whole life next to someone and then realize you’re just two strangers.

She was not an easy person to argue with. With that being said, Harry and Ruby had never had what would constitute as a real argument. They bickered- the way old married couples do, several people didn’t fail to point out- about pancake toppings, films for movie nights, nail lacquer colors, and more. Small things that didn’t matter so much on the grand scale.

That night, they fought about her bed. She insisted on taking the couch and letting him have her bed. Harry didn’t think that was right; it was her flat, and she should have the bed. Ruby remained insistent on being a good host by letting Harry sleep in her bed. It was practically new, and she tended to sleep better on the couch anyway. Where she was insistent, Harry was relentless. He couldn’t in good conscious sleep in her bed while she was on the couch. And though he was bigger than her, the couch wasn’t near long enough for her to be comfortable.

Their battle of words lasted upwards of half an hour. Voices never raised but faces warm with disquieted emotion. In reality, Harry wanted her to make an offer. One that would permanently cross them over into unforeseen territory.

Yes, they had shared a bed before. On four occasions, no more. Once, at Blythe and Mandy’s. Once, at her flat. Once, at his hotel room. And once on Fresno’s boat. And each morning, no matter how little sleep he had received, Harry woke up feeling more well rested than ever before. Usually, he wasn’t a fan of sharing a bed with someone. He liked his space and he enjoyed the freedom of moving anywhere in the bed, tending to prefer the middle rather than a set side. But he always slept better with her next to him.

The half-worn scent of strawberries to caress him awake. A tickle of her hair against his arm or neck. Gentle radiation of heat that she emitted, her body only mere centimeters from his. Legs tangled together among the sheets.

His mind never ran eight meters a minute. Sleep wasn’t forced upon himself. He simply…drifted into that serene darkness. With her, there was peace.

He wanted her to agree to sleep in her own bed. So long as he joined her. It was a long shot of hope he didn’t dare dream for. A glimmer that sparked when she said, “Fine,” and stood up from the couch. A glimmer that promptly died when he registered the iced tone in which she spoke. No chance of a resurrection as she took refuge in her room, the door cracked.

And no other words were spoken between them. Not until four in the morning when he woke to the sound of…something.

Whimpers.

Chilling, mewled whimpers. The noise a person makes when terrified. Accompanied by the thrashing and rustling of blankets. Ragged, heavy breathing.

He was slow, peeling the blanket back from his body, letting it fall over the back of the couch once again. Telly long gone to sleep, the flat was dark. The only light streamed from the windows, yellowed flickers of streetlamps below. The floor groaned under the pressure of his feet when he rose. Her bedroom door, still cracked open, stared back at him. Behind it, the sounds.

When the flat of his palm pressed against the door, it creaked to an open.

Her room was shrouded in darkness. A void, empty darkness protruded only by the light from the moon outside her window. Dim light from a half-waxed moon. And in the darkness, he heard her. Limbs that fussed against sheets, wound in the blanket. Half-choked breaths, fervent gasps for air broken only by kitten-like cries.

There was, he knew in that moment, nothing worse than this. There would be no other moment in his life that would cut the strings of his heart the way this had. At least, that was what he thought until his hand skimmed over the wall and flicked on the light. He hoped the sudden burst of brightness would snap her awake. And, as usual, that hope died in its birth spot, seconds later.

She was indeed thrashing in her bed. The white sheets twisted around her limbs, the yellow duvet forgone in the floor. Mouth slack as her chest heaved with struggled breaths. Sweat sheened a thin film over her skin, plastered her hair to her face, neck, shoulders.

He didn’t remember actually crossing the room. Only being in the doorway one second and on the bed beside her the next one. Harry vaguely remembered hearing once that you shouldn’t wake up a sleep-walking person. Did that apply to someone in the midst of a night terror? 

Nevertheless, he curved his hands around her shoulders, applying just enough pressure to still her movements. “Ruby.” He eased one hand down to her elbow. “Ruby, wake up. S’okay, just a dream.”

When her eyes flashed open, he was met with the startling shade of cornflower blue. The lightest blue eyes he had ever seen. They were rounded with fright, pupils encroached to snuff out that precious blue to the point only a thin ring of color was present. She shot forward in his arms, throwing hers around his neck. Her fingernails scraped the bare skin of his back.

“Harry…?”

Softly, he shushed her. “M’here, love. S’me, don’t worry.” He repositioned his hands to hold one arm around her waist and use his other hand to rub circles on her back. “Just a dream, yeah? All it was, you’re okay.”

Face hidden in his neck, tears hot and dampening his skin. “M’sorry I woke you up.” She mumbled, velvet lips brushing the divot where his shoulder met his neck. “I don’t…I can’t…I sleep on the couch.”

For what reason, he won’t ask why. When she was ready, she would tell him. Whatever fear she had of her bed or her room or whatever, he would help her face it only when she was ready to divulge it.

“Let’s get you on the couch, then.” He went to pull away from her. Ruby’s cheeks were red, stained with glistening streams from her tears.

“No, it’s…it’s okay.” She nodded. She wiped the back of her hands against her cheeks and sniffed her nose. “Could you maybe-will you stay? In here, with me.”

Fate had a sick way of giving him what he wanted. He wouldn’t have hoped for the invitation if it meant she had to suffer through whatever plagued her dreams. But that didn’t mean he was going to tell her no.

So, he got up from the bed. Picked the duvet up from floor and spread it back over the bed. Turned on her bedside lamp, asked if she wanted water, to which her reply was a quiet _no_. And after turning out the ceiling light, he climbed into the bed next to her and burrowed into the blankets. When she turned off the lamp, she molded into him. Cheek on his shoulder, arm folded over his waist, leg thrown over and between his. One of his arms behind her head and the other wrapped around hers, that was how they slept.

_She’s a good girl_

_She’s such a good girl_

_She’s a good girl_

_Feels so good_

_She feels so good_

_She feels so good_

_She feels so good_

_Oh she’s a good girl_

_She feels so good_

While the position in general wasn’t foreign to him, Harry wasn’t used to having so many people staring back at him from the other side of the recording booth. There was a routine, and this wasn’t it. He was used to singing the song for Jeff, then the band, then recording it until it was perfect. And then letting Ruby hear it.

But there she sat, on a first run-through. Wedged between Clare and Adam. She stuck out among them. They were all callously laid back in their positions, where she was jutted forward. Chin supported up by her knotted hands, elbows dug into her knees. Eyes closed, as they always were when she listened in the studio.

What would she look like if she knew the song was about her? That all the new ones stemmed from her presence in his world. Jeff looked ready to blow the cover. His sights flickering between Ruby and Harry, a shit-eating grin on his face.

He had been stuck on the song for days. Started it the night they got back from their drive down the coast. Enthralled with the sliver of her soul that she had handed over on a platter shaped like a strawberry red convertible. Progressed at her hideaway Beachwood Café, the two of them huddled over respective notebooks, each inking down heavy chunks of their hearts in different form. And then, he was stuck.

There was an effective block placed on the lyrics. Nothing he did, with or without her, tore it down. An entire song dedicated to her, as they all were now. Dedicated to knowing her and each piece of her.

_People aren’t meant to be known._

She was right. Frustratingly so, she was right. He would never know her, not wholly, never completely. There would always be some part that would remain a mystery to him. When they were a hundred, he would still be learning new things about his Ruby Jane. If there was a person whom he wanted to explore every day for the rest of his life, to memorize and learn over and over, it was her.

When he woke up that morning, her arms twisted around him like the most heavenly of cages, the words were there. Sitting, nesting in his head. Waiting for him to recognize them, to immortalize them on paper. In a song. Brought to life by the still of her room, heat of her body, steadied rhythm of her breathing, her beating heart. That distant, life-fearing glass look in her eyes when he had first woken her from that night terror. Burn of nails against flesh. Plush lips on a neck. Words born by her and always her.

Everything about her. The things he knew and more importantly, the things he didn’t know. The ones he would learn as time passed them by. The secrets that would gather dust in the closet of her heart, never to see the light of his knowledge. The lifelong expedition he had ahead of him in the exploration of Ruby Jane Manning.

_Do you know who you are?_

“H, that song…” she pulled him out into the hall of the studio, away from the ears and eyes of his mates, “you just constantly set the bar each time.” Ruby leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. “You make masterpieces of songs, Harry Styles.”

Songs about _her_. He was glad to know she enjoyed the music that was inspired by her. For her. About her.

“Thank you.” She murmured. “For last night. Staying with me.”

The memory still shook his core. The image of her, gasping for air and fighting off shadows was forever burned into his mind. “You don’t have to thank me, angel.” He said softly. “S’what I’m here for.” What he would always be there for. She didn’t need saving, probably never had, but if she ever needed help saving herself, he would be there. Rain or shine, come Heaven or Hell.

She looked up at him through fine blonde lashes, coated dark with mascara. The most serene of smiles graced her lips, mouth pulled out just barely enough to tell it was a smile at all. “You have the best heart of anyone I know. And whoever ends up with it is going to be the luckiest person in the world.”

He was looking at said person. Looking directly into those sterling blue eyes and telling himself _he_ was the luckiest person in the world because his planet was pulled into her orbit. 


	10. Ten: 18-Ruby// August 16

_I got a heart_

_And I got a soul_

_Believe me I will use them both_

_We made a start_

_Be it a false one I know_

_Baby I don’t want to feel alone_

Ruby- along with most who believed in the higher power of true love- was a strong believer in fate. Destiny. What have you. There was no room for coincidence on the table; fate was an overloading entrée that left no space for dessert. And therefore, Ruby thought some people were meant to be in your life. For whatever reason it may have been, some were specifically placed there as an act of fate.

Take, as an example, Mandy and Blythe. It wasn’t by a stroke of dumb luck they were placed as random room-mates freshmen year of college. Fate knew about Blythe’s debilitating migraines and it also knew that Mandy was probably the only person in the world who made an everything-but-the-kitchen-sink tea that zapped said migraines right away.

The four of them were destined to meet in the bathroom that day during Fall Rush, when the other girls were out enjoying the sun and they were all sick as dogs from the same taquito truck. They had to meet in order to go to spring break two years later and get those not-at-all-matching tattoos. 

And, Ruby knew more than anything, Harry was put in her life by fate. The reasoning, she wasn’t yet sure of. All she knew, possibly all she would ever know was that the two of them were destined to be in one another’s lives. Whether that was by the noose of friendship or the gentle cup of love. For nearly fourteen years, he had been a part of her life and she was confident to the highest degree that he would remain there until it all became dust.

_So kiss me where I lay down_

_My hands pressed to your cheeks_

_A long way from the playground_

She was, very probably, going crazy. Not the good kind either, crafted by a mixture of cheap alcohols and the intoxication of being one in hundreds smushed in a club. No, not that crazy. Her dearest friends were sending her over the edge.

Derry, with her constant, never-ending grill sessions. Were she and Harry close to dating? Had they kissed? Sealed the deal? For a sixteen-year-old, she knew way too much. Then again, Ruby had been shoved into that knowledge at twelve, only because Grant had been fifteen and had learned from his friends.

Mandy, her relentless teasing. Referring to Harry as _the boyfriend_ , but never when he was around.

Blythe, in all her critical and cynical glory, remained wary of all things Harry Styles. Mostly, though, his status as an international musician who never remained in one place too long. Blythe, for whatever it was worth, could always be counted on to be the practical, level-headed voice of reason.

As for Alyse…She was more reserved in both her reservations and her hopes. The ideal mix of Mandy’s airy wishes and Blythe’s stony condemnations. Reserved in the fact that she only brought the situation into the light when it was just the two of them. She knew to approach the topic in solitude and gentle reproach. Hopeful in the belief Harry and Ruby both cared for each other beyond the capsule of platonic love and were fully enamored with one another, neither knowing how to step or vault over the ever-blurring line. But again, quietly cynical of their vastly contrasting lifestyles and personalities. Harry’s bright openness that exceeded his primary shy demeanor upon first meet. Ruby’s unforgiving reticence, fortified only by the forever growing wall she loved to construct, would never give way.

And Harry, Jesus, God, Harry. What was she to do? Being around him was mind-numbing, dizzying, heart-wrenching work. The overwhelming desire to plead the case of her bleeding heart versus the staunchly fierce need to protect that same bleeding heart by keeping her feelings locked away. If they remained only friends, her heart remained safe. Giving it up meant allocating that precious, strenuous job to someone else and that wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.

She had no doubt that, when in the eye of love, Harry was the epitomal lover. She saw it, each time she looked at him. In all ways, he was a devoted lover. To music, his fans, friends and family. He was the one to check on those he hadn’t heard from in a long while, to make room on the sidewalk or couch, listening when no one else seemed to be. One captured stare into those magnetic eyes was all it took to know you were the only person he saw. His attention was whole, undivided, and focused.

Although she knew that harm was never intentional when sourced from him, there was still the possibility of a broken heart. Intentional or otherwise, a broken heart was a broken heart and she would not suffer that thousand-sword death until absolutely necessary. So, she would not make her feelings known until there was tangible certainty that he felt the same way. The risk was too great for only the slim possibility of a reward. A rejection like that would silence her forever on the subject of love and Ruby was not ready to give up her lifelong affair with the matter.

“All I’m saying is that you should just grab him and plant one on him.” Mandy shrugged, popping a miniature crab cake in her mouth. “I know you’re a good kisser. You have to be, it’s all you do.” From her, the virgin comments are never meant with ill-will.

“Okay, one: just kissing someone is gross when guys do it to us, so it’s gross if we do it to them.” Alyse pointed out. “And, two: you know damn good and well she’s done more than kiss a guy. Remember that Halloween party senior year and we caught her in the bath-.”

“Let’s _not_ remember that.” Blythe interjected; Alyse’s story was promptly cut short. She shuddered at the memory, one which Ruby could recollect with only the sugared hint of strawberry vodka and a Tyga song.

“He said it was the best one he ever had.” Alyse quipped. “Our little cherry’s not so sweet after all, huh?”

Ruby cut her eyes. “No more wine for you.” She snatched the bottle from in front of her and slid it to an unreachable length.

At Mandy’s third sly grab for a crab cake, Blythe swiped the silver tray and moved it to where the other five sat. Their kitchen was frivolously littered with platters upon platters of hors d’oeuvres. Miniature crab cakes, canapés, charcuterie boards of various cheeses and meats, caviar and crème fraiche tarts, crudité platters. Blythe had really gone overboard on the anniversary cocktail party.

“We’re sure this isn’t a little…much?” Mandy gestured to the cluttered kitchen. “I mean, you guys don’t even have that many friends.”

Not that she was wrong. Chip only associated closely with a handful of people. Blythe’s friends were all congregated in the kitchen with her. The party would indeed be an intimate gathering where everyone knew everyone. But, per the rules of nature, Blythe would not let a cocktail party of fifteen deter her from an extravagant celebration. Six years with her soon-to-be intended was a cause to be rejoiced. And rejoice they all would.

Ruby believed in meant to be. She had never seen it, only read it. Two people destined to be together because the careful and delicate planning of an author made it so. And when her faith wavered on the all-mighty power of love and destiny, she looked at Chip and Blythe. They were meant to be. Two people made specifically for one another, fitted together so intricately as lock and key, no one else would ever work for them.

“Chip’s parents are coming.” Blythe said before taking a long sip of her own wine. “And I’m pretty sure they’re bringing Tatiana.”

At the same time, all four pulled the same exact face. The only other person who disliked Blythe as much as Moira Wolcott was Chip’s older sister, Tatiana. Just as rigid and cold-natured as her mother, Tatiana loathed Blythe. Though the reasoning was never explicitly stated, they were all sure it was residual hatred from the Wolcott matriarch. At least Chip’s dad liked Blythe, that was something.

“Maybe it won’t be too bad.” Alyse offered. “I mean, what could really go wrong at a Blythe Osterfeld planned party?”

Blythe finished her wine and immediately refilled the glass. Leaning against the counter, she swirled the drink around carefully. “God, let’s see. My boyfriend’s devil mother and sister will be here in a handful of hours, sure to critique everything from the crudités to my fucking curtains. Chip invited Calvin and I have absolutely no doubts that he’ll piss Moira off within five minutes of being here. This is probably going to be the worst night of my life.”

However, Ruby and Blythe both knew it would be nowhere close to that.

One of the perks of having an insanely rich friend was that Ruby often found herself at all sorts of fancy parties. The downside to this was that Ruby never had something nice enough to wear. Which was why she was staring back at herself in Blythe’s full-length mirror. The dress Blythe lent her was unnaturally fitting. Blythe had a few inches on her and forever remained three sizes smaller than her.

She turned to the side, admiring the non-existent snugness of the burgundy velvet material. It wasn’t tight or short on her, which meant-.

“Oh, you look great.” Blythe smiled. “Fits like a glove. Keep it.” She smoothed over the A-line skirt of her own navy dress. With its thick off-shoulder neckline and knee-length hem, Blythe managed to exude all manner of a high-end socialite wife.

Ruby furrowed her brow before bending down to fix the strap of her heeled shoe. “Fits a little _too_ well, B.”

The lie this time: Blythe ordered it online and it came in too big. Blythe never bothered with returning anything she bought on the internet if it came in wrong. She just donated it or pawned it off on someone else. She had once drunkenly ordered an Amazon Alexa and forced Alyse to take it. All in coincidence that a few weeks prior, Alyse had mentioned her indecision on buying a smart home device.

No one would ever be able to say that Blythe Osterfeld was a bad friend.

“Oh,” Blythe paused in the doorway of her bedroom as Ruby stepped out the closet (one easily the size of her kitchen at the apartment), “I invited Harry. I figured he’s not so bad and-.”

“I have to tell you something.” Ruby blurted. Her recently discovered information had been weighing on her chest since it’s unearthing, and she had been stuck on whether or not to tell Blythe.

It wasn’t a huge deal. Harry meant very little to Blythe in the grand scheme of things. His past actions and relationships were of no consequence to her. Ruby just knew that the mere utterance of his tryst with Francesca would cross him out of Blythe’s good grace for a long time to come.

“Okay…?” Blythe crossed backwards into the room. Ruby motioned towards the door and Blythe knocked it shut. “What’s goin’ on? Did you two…?”

“No! Jesus, I wish everyone would stop with that.” Ruby groaned. “We went to that party. The one you asked me to go to.”

Blythe’s face, carefully masked behind a portrait of good breeding and makeup, immediately began to turn a darkened shade of pink. Eyes narrowed, “Did she make a move on Chip? Ruby, I swear to God-.”

Ruby grabbed her by the biceps. “No. I told you, he pretty much was alone all night. But, she made a move on Harry.”

The other woman’s nose scrunched in disapproval. Mouth twisted in a frown, she shrugged Ruby’s hands off and fixed her neckline. “Well, he is a rock star. A pretty attractive one at that. How pissed were you?”

Ruby bottled down the flaming jealousy. Words hadn’t been created to describe everything she had felt that night. Not just watching Francesca flirt with Harry, but the flagrant relief when he said that she wasn’t his girlfriend. And before that, having to learn from the woman herself and not Harry that they had once been an item.

“Not as pissed as I was when I found out they used to date.”

If Blythe had ever been shocked to silence in her life, it was then and there.

Ruby sighed, fighting off the urge to rub her cheek. She had worked too hard on her makeup to ruin it. In exhaustive detail, she replayed all the events she had previously left out. Try as she did, words did injustice to the iced heartache that still thudded in her chest. Intensified only by her earlier decision to further conceal her feelings from him. As her oldest friend, she felt entitled to tell Harry about the man who had stolen her heart. But as he happened to be said man, that confession would not see the light of day with him. It would simply remain in a slim existence within a small circle of people.

“Oh, God.” Blythe muttered. “Fuck, Manning, what are you going to do?”

Ruby shrugged. She stepped past Blythe and pulled open the door. She said there was no way she was telling Harry about her feelings unless he confessed first to feeling the same way. “I don’t have any room in my life for any more heartbreak, B. I can’t- I won’t do that to myself. I don’t care how convinced Alyse or Derry or anyone is. Unless he tells me himself, it’s a secret I’ll take to the grave.”

Physically, mentally, and emotionally, Ruby couldn’t deal with anymore heartbreak. As much as she wanted to experience a great, all-encompassing love that books, songs, and movies were written about, she couldn’t bring herself to fall off that cliff. The possibility of flying overshadowed by the always present fear of falling to certain doom. Risk far too great to even consider the reward.

If the suffocating embrace of Harry’s friendship saved her from falling to the ground, she would remain standing on the bluff.

“Thank God,” Alyse darted from the end of the hall that separated the west wing of the house from the balconied foyer, “we’ve got a huge problem.”

Blythe shot off. The food had spoiled. A server dropped an entire tray of crab cakes. The champagne wasn’t chilled enough. The possibilities for disaster were endless.

“Worse.” Alyse grimaced. Blythe asked what the hell could be worse. “Chip’s parents are here. And, uh, they brought someone…unexpected.”

Both Ruby and Alyse turned their attention to Blythe. An unexpected guess was simply unaccounted for. Improbably because this was a private affair and only people Blythe invited were allowed in the door. Which, Ruby was sure not even all of them wanted to be in the stiff environment. Had it not been for the presence of Chip’s family, it would have been a much more relaxing affair.

Blythe shouldered past Alyse into the hall. Alyse muttered that she was going to have a heart attack or kill someone. Maybe both. Ruby wrapped her arm around Alyse’s and the two followed Blythe’s path to the balcony. The black wrought railing barricaded a dangerous fall down to the open foyer. Ruby peered over, watching as Chip took his mother’s shawl and hung it in the coat closet.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Blythe hissed.

She skimmed over the guests congregated in the foyer. Mandy and Russ huddled together, sneaking off into the kitchen (no doubt to swipe from the appetizer platters); Chip with his parents, Moira Wolcott a sour expression already on her face. Fresno was off on his own, fiddling with a strawberry red bowtie he had more than likely been forced into wearing. Long locks pulled back from his face in a half-up style that resulted in a minuscule bun. And Harry, also on his own. Dressed in what she could only call his most plain look of a simple black suit. Off a few feet from where the Wolcotts stood were two women. One in a simple black tea-length dress. Easily recognizable as Tatiana Wolcott-Preston. And the other in her pastel pink dress, pearl barrettes, and classic nude heels-.

“Francesca.” Ruby muttered.

Almost as if she heard her name, the woman looked up. And she grinned.

_I have loved you since we were 18_

_Long before we both thought the same thing_

_To be loved and to be in love_

_All I could do is say that these arms were made for holding you_

_I wanna love like you made me feel when we were 18_

“Your home really is just…lovely.”

Without even a spared look, Ruby knew Blythe was at wit’s end. There were only so many thinly veiled backhanded compliments and passive-aggressive remarks one girl could handle. Only so many forced smiles to be made. All without more than two glasses of champagne because Blythe refused to be remotely on the drunken path around her future in-laws.

She was smack in the lion’s den. Alone, without Chip at her side. Sandwiched in a conversation with the three women she detested most of all.

“Thank you, Francesca.”

Ruby gnawed on her bottom lip. Whatever words were leaving Harry’s mouth, they were in one ear and right out the other. Francesca glanced over, lips folding in a clever smirk before turning her attention back to Blythe.

“I should go rescue B before her head explodes.” Ruby mumbled. “She looks like she’s in hell.”

Harry cocked his head to the side. “How bad do you think she wants to choke Francesca?”

Ruby stifled the laugh that was brought forth by the mental image of Blythe attacking Francesca in a _Mean Girls_ \- esque manner. Now _that_ would have been excellent party entertainment. Before she could swoop in to save her friend, Chip arrived with his dad at his side.

“Mom, Tati, I was just going to show Dad the office Blythe set up for me. Come see it with us.” Chip took his mother and sister by the crooks of their elbows. Ruby and Blythe were the only ones who caught the little wink he sent his soon-to-be intended.

“An office? In her house? Whatever for?” Moira’s mouth downturned. “Is your work office too far from her?”

Chip grimaced. His plan to save Blythe wasn’t going well, clearly. He explained that the office had been a birthday gift for his last birthday. A convenience for when he one day moved in. An event that no one in his family had apparently foreseen. While his dad remained silent on the matter (as always), his mother objected that there was no way the two would live together before being married. Tatiana wondered aloud what could be wrong with Chip’s own home that he was compelled to move into Blythe’s.

It was at that moment that Blythe excused herself to check on the next round of crudité platters.

Ruby frowned but decided not to pursue her. Instead, she watched Chip. She took a sip of her champagne, waiting eagerly for whatever explanation he was about to provide.

“It was my idea to move in here, not Blythe’s.” He told his family. “I like her house. It has plenty of space for both of us, and children.”

Ruby choked, turning her back so she could spit her drink back into the flute. Harry clapped the flat of his hand between her shoulders.

“All righ’, angel?”

She nodded before using the back of her hand to gently wipe her mouth. She didn’t want to smear her lipstick. When she turned, she was glad no one noticed her mishap. Moira and Tatiana were staring at Chip, jaws slack and eyes wide. Even Francesca looked surprised at his statement. And, as always, his dad passive.

Ruby knew that his mother and sister were none too keen on his relationship with Blythe. But it was one only a few years shy of a decade. They didn’t honestly think he didn’t mean to marry her or have children with her? Knowing Chip and Blythe, the wedding was already planned, kids named, and a hypoallergenic dog pre-named. The intention, for the both of them, had been clear from the start. They would be together forever.

“Chip, darling, you can’t honestly mean to marry the girl.” Moira said in a hushed voice.

“You’ve got to be joking.” Tatiana sighed at the same time. “She’s…Chip, she’s-.”

“The woman I love.” Chip snapped at them. “She is the woman I love and I’m going to propose to her one day.” The _soon_ went unsaid but it was made abundantly clear by his tone. “With Nana Wolcott’s ring.”

 _That_ sent his mother over the edge. The promise of a ring neither she nor her daughter had been gifted as a proposal offering. Moira huffed a breath and turned her back on her son. Without another word, she stormed off from her family.

Mr. Wolcott suggested they then go see the office and give Moira time to cool off. He slung his arm over Chip’s shoulders and the two went off. Tatiana, face composed but eyes narrowed, followed after them.

“Incoming.” Harry muttered.

Just in time for Ruby to sling back the rest of her drink. Francesca was coming right for them. She was so not tipsy enough for this.

“Let me guess,” Francesca looked them over, eyes taking far too long to rake over Harry for Ruby’s personal comfort, “party crashing again?” The sarcasm was too overdone. They’d been had. “Did she send you to spy on me or Chip?”

There was no getting out of it without scathing her friend in the process. She hadn’t been sent to watch Chip but telling the truth meant revealing that Blythe saw her as competition. Something Ruby knew she would take pleasure in. And she would also relay back to Moira and Tatiana. Ruby couldn’t let that happen.

“We were just crashing the other night.” Harry intervened. Voice stringent, he made it known how unfond he was of her. “Only coincidence.”

Francesca’s eyes slanted in dissatisfaction. “You don’t believe in coincidence, Harry.”

Ruby’s gaze jerked up to his face. With her heels, he only stood a couple inches taller than her. How was it that she, his best friend of almost fifteen years, hadn’t known that, but Francesca did? A girl he’d hooked up with for a few weeks. Sure, she didn’t know every little thing about him, but she apparently didn’t know him as well as she thought.

“I should go see if B needs help in the kitchen.” She mumbled. _And get a much-needed refill_. In a vain attempt to keep her there, Harry’s hand brushed against her waist. Though the slight touch sent a shiver down her back, she ignored the feeling. Just as she would ignore any other passionate emotion he evicted from her.

No more. She needed to move on.

_We took a chance_

_God knows we tried_

_Yet all along I knew we’d be fine_

One of her sturdier skills was hiding intoxication. Ruby could outdrink anyone around her and still appear sober as a priest. She had aced the skill in high school when sneaking to Grant’s college parties and returning home drunk as a skunk without anyone being the wiser. The only culprits of her actions being whoever was tasked with getting her home.

Thank God for that or Blythe would have tossed her ass out. Ruby knew better than to embarrass her, especially in front of the crowd assembled. It would be an act unforgivable. To the point she almost wished she hadn’t consumed anything past the fifth flute of champagne.

Harry floated around the party, a jovial bouncing ray of happiness. He never stuck out or blended in. He simply _was_ and everyone was happy to embrace his winning smile.

“Shit, Manning,” Fresno skidded to a halt in front of her, bow crooked and eyes flurried, “quick.” There was no time to object before his hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her off.

The party disappeared around them as he tugged her down the hall and pushing her into one of the half-bathrooms.

“Calv, what are-?”

“Shush, shush.” He pressed his forefinger against her lips. Eyes glazed over and the whites near pink. She sniffed, smelling that tell-tale odor that had so often percolated his parties.

“Are you _high_?”

Well, thank fucking God for Calvin Fletcher. Not that she would ever say that aloud. His ego would shoot up to the heavens if she ever did. His blunder would surely cover her own. Blythe would be way more pissed at Fresno getting baked than her having a few too many drinks.

He removed his hand from her mouth but kept his grip on her wrist. He peeled open the door and peeked out before shutting it in a swift, quiet way.

“Fuck, so close.” He groaned, leaning his head against the door. One eye perked open to take her in. “You look fine as shit, Ruby Manning. Holy hell.”

Even though she rolled her eyes, the flattery struck a chord. Maybe she’d had a few too many drinks. Or maybe she was far too gone in her own cruel punishments. Or maybe Calvin just looked really good all cleaned up. Even if his bow was crooked.

“Not so bad yourself.” She handed over. “You have any more on you? I’d kill for a buzz that wasn’t from Blythe’s liquor cabinet.”

He raised his eyebrows but didn’t hesitate in producing a joint from inside the breast of his dinner jacket. He pulled a lighter, flicked it until the end of the joint sizzled to life, and slid the brown funk funnel through her parted lips.

“You’re lucky I always have backups.”

Ruby had never been one to deem herself lucky.

She hoisted herself up on the sink counter, crossing her ankles and leaning back against the mirror. She inhaled the thick haze, reveling in it before exhaling, chest heaving with a relief she couldn’t place. This was going to knock her back so far, she’d be gone. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been high, let alone crossed as all shit.

“Chip’s old lady caught me out back. I thought I was done for. She scares the shit outta me.”

The only person they needed to be afraid of was Blythe.

He took the joint from her and she let him wordlessly. Watched as he took several short puffs, mouth rambling about the inner workings of his dazed brain. Moira Wolcott, Tatiana and the minion (his less than affectionate nickname for Francesca), how sweet Ruby looked all dolled up. The sophomore year dodgeball game that left him bowl-legged for two days and completely enamored with her.

All she could do was listen. Let herself absorb his words and get lost in them, all in the gutting attempt to push Harry clean from her mind. And her heart, though that muscle proved far more stubborn than she was willing to deal with for the evening.

“You’re awful quiet tonight. Got the spins?” Chip ran sink water over the joint before wrapping it in a wad of toilet paper and flushing it down the toilet. Ruby shook her head as he leaned against her knee. “Styles, then.”

It was frightening how someone she knew so little could know her so well.

“You like me, right?” Her voice was quiet as it stumbled over the question. One she didn’t need an answer for. But she craved the answer, to know she was right and that there was someone who cared enough about her to remember a dodgeball game five years ago and her mild obsession with strawberries, who could read her face the way she read a book.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Fuck kinda question is that?” He muttered. “Why’re you askin’ questions you know the answer to? Kinda game are you playin’, Manning?”

She looked him dead in the eye, her chin almost grazing her chest. “It’s a yes or no question, Calv. I wanna hear you say it. Do you like me?” She paused, debating the next words about to spill from her mouth. Wishing they were targeted towards someone else but glad Fresno was the one to hear them. He would understand. He knew. He knew her like the back of his hand. “Do you want me?”

“Jesus, fuck.” He hissed. “You gotta be fuckin’ with me. ‘Course I like you. ‘Course I want you. Fuck me in the throat, girl, holy shit.”

It was a nice sentiment to hear. Even nicer the way he couldn’t piece a coherent thought together. How had she been so blind for so long?

“That why you never have a girlfriend?” She trailed on. “Are you waiting around on me, Calvin Fletcher?”

He mock-zipped his lips and pretended to throw away and invisible key. “Nice try, hot shot. M’gonna plead the fifth on that one.”

Evasion from the one person who was always brutally honest with her was the last thing she wanted. She just needed to be coddled in his serpentine affirmations, swarmed in his adoration. Was it selfish? Hell yes. Did she really care? Fuck no.

“Don’t. I want you to tell me.”

“You’ll be pissed if I do.” He warned her. 

She’d never been good at heeding warnings. Reading the signs that flashed STOP. She always made her merry way through the hell-zones, carefree to the carnage induced. Pissed when she got to the other side and had fat battle scars. When would she learn?

Never, probably.

Tonight, maybe.

“Doubt it.” She assured him. “You _are_ the only guy that’s ever still liked me after finding out I was waiting to have sex.” Emphasis on the _liked_ because she knew what it was like to be wanted simply for the cherry between her legs and solely that. Dense as he tended to be, Calv was more than any of those guys put together.

He stepped between her legs and she widened them. The hem of the dress bunching at her thighs to make room for him. His hands on either side of the counter by her thighs, they had only been so close a small number of times before.

He whistled out a groan. “I am such a dumbass, huh?” His head shook, dusty hair free at the motion. “Chasin’ a girl who’ll never look twice at me ‘cept to smack my arm.”

Maybe it was the champagne. Maybe it was the weed. Maybe it was the dull ache in her chest whose only purpose was the serve as a reminder that she would never really have the person she wanted. Maybe it was the heat in the core of her body that she had only experienced a handful of times and always dismissed.

What was the point in waiting if her faith in love was fading?

She leaned forward, grabbing the back of his neck, “Never say never.”

He pulled back, eyebrows slanted up at a perilous invitation. One he had never expected to receive; one she had never anticipated to give. “Fuck. For real? Are you yankin’ my balls, Ruby Manning? I can’t fuckin’ breathe, holy shit.”

Her shoulder went up and then dipped back down in a careless shrug. Better late than never to learn her lessons. Even if it hurt like hell all the way down to road of recovery. A road she knew all too well and still hadn’t stepped off of from the first time. What was a little detour if not an adventure?

“Styles?” He croaked the question.

Styles. Harry. The flaming object of her affection. An affection everyone was aware of. She had close to no doubts that he himself was in the know and only pretended to save her from mortal embarrassment. He was an affliction of the heart that she needed to dismiss as quickly as humanly possible.

It didn’t matter how good he made her feel. How many sunflowers he had gifted and had died slow deaths in her dollar store vase. It didn’t matter that he was the only person who knew about her book and that he left sloppy notes in the margins of each draft she gave him. Never edits, just notes of his thoughts and glees and heartstring pulls. She didn’t care that he knew about the _Ruby Jane_ album or that he supported her affinity of hot sauce on all foods. Or that he had driven Pearl.

Or that in his presence, there wasn’t enough brick and mortar in the world to build her fortress tall enough to keep him out. He was forever climbing, insistent on knowing the darkest, worst parts of her. And if he did, when he did, there would be no going back. He would never look at her the same and the idea terrified her.

“He’s just a friend.” Fresno’s eyebrows, if possible, lifted higher and he gave her a stern, knowing look. “Seriously, I’m never gonna come clean to him. I’m getting over it.”

Something like sorrow passed over his features before they molded into that familiar mirth. “Want some help?”

It could have been the weed or the alcohol, the dizzying combination of both. The fact that she knew exactly what he was offering, and he was the best person to receive the offer from. Not a stranger, maybe a friend if she thought hard enough about it. Easy going, warm to the touch, a laugh that coaxed it even from the firmest of lips (Wolcott’s excluded for they had no sense of humor). He knew her and he knew exactly when to stop and when to pass Go and collect his prize money.

All she knew was that his strawberry red bowtie was askew, and he smelled like marijuana and whiskey and apple tarts. Her skin sizzled where his hands ghosted, too close and too far, not close enough. All she knew was that he looked good and he was Fresno, and he knew she liked strawberries and still liked her after she almost gave him a vasectomy with a dodgeball and found out she was waiting for something bigger than half-assed drunken confessions and he was not her best friend.

Once more ignoring a flaring warning sign, she pulled him to her and slotted their mouths together. Unlike that first kiss on the boat, this was intentional on her part. Fogged with her buzzed head spins and the desire of feeling _something_ , _anything_.

It all faded to the back of her mind to be examined at a later date. All that mattered was that he knew how to work his tongue against hers and refused to put his hands anywhere other than the skin right above her knees. And though his hands didn’t move, his mouth did. Over her lips, across her cheeks, to nibble her earlobe, and down the arch of her neck. He stopped there, setting boundaries she wasn’t even sure she wanted anymore. Nose sweeping against the bottom of her ear and mouth leaving hot shells of breath and wet suctioned kisses.

Ruby jerked back to give him a taste of his own medicine. He groaned when she tugged the baby hairs at the nape of his neck, whined when her teeth clamped down on his earlobe in a teasing love bite. Her mouth trailed his neck, nose caressing the column where his Adam’s apple bobbed with husked breath.

“-waited so long for this, you’re heaven on God’s green fucking earth. Sweet Jesus.”

The door pushed open, the creak so quiet neither heard it.

“Oh, oh, God.”

Fresno jumped back from her, plastering himself against the opposite wall. Ruby jerked her head to their intrusion. For half a second, she thanked God himself it wasn’t Blythe. And then cursed him all the same when she registered the features.

Francesca fucking Morrison.

“Sorry, I was just-.”

Ruby slid off the counter and adjusted her dress. Once palpable heat that had blanketed the room now gone as fresh air barreled in. “Breathe a word and you’ll wish we never met.” She snapped at Francesca. 

The other woman smirked and crossed her arms over her chest. “Afraid of what everyone will think when they figure out you were about to give it up in a bathroom?” She hummed before proceeding. “No, just ashamed of what Harry will think if he finds out.”

“Keep your fucking mouth shut, Morrison.” Fresno snarled at her. “Snitch and your daddy finds out about that _mission trip_ you went on in high school. Dig it?”

Ruby had no clue what he was talking about but was once again grateful for him. Francesca shot them both a Blythe-rivaling look of death before huffing a breath and storming away.

Ruby turned to him. “Do I want to know?”

He shrugged and looked in the mirror. He adjusted his bow and raked fingers through his hair. “She told her parents she was going on a mission trip for fall break one year. Whole time she and Chip were holed up in the Poconos getting blasted on wine coolers and finger-sexing each other in the hot tub.” He mumbled something about never understanding Chip’s attraction to her. “Much as Osterfeld chafes my board, she’s a rock-hard improvement. Plus, she makes my man happy so…”

Ruby made a comment about him having a heart after all. He winked at her through the mirror.

“I hate to kiss and run,” she sighed, “but I’m crossed and that whole,” hand gestured wildly to the hall, “ordeal made my stomach flip bricks. Forgiven?”

He ruffled the top of her head with a fond smile. “Nothin’ to forgive, foxy lady. I finally got my mouth on those sweet lips of yours. Anyone ever tell you that you taste like hot sauce?” She pushed him away, laughter bursting at his question. “I’d offer you a ride, but I’m too far gone to be behind the wheel. I can sure as shit get you an Uber or Lyft or-.”

“Um, Harry’s my designated driver, actually…” She gnawed her bottom lip between her teeth. Though she was on her way to hurdling over that chasm, the bridge of their decade and a half long friendship still lay ahead.

Whatever reaction she expected, Fresno didn’t deliver. He pulled her in by the crook of his elbow for a bone-crushing hug. When he let her go, he slipped right by her out the door into the hall.

“Wicked, babe. Get home safe, ‘kay?”

He was dizzying. Mind-altering and heart-numbing. Real and copacetic and viciously available. If only she wanted him as much as he did her.

Ruby waltzed around the party in search of the familiar face. In the small crowd, he shouldn’t have been so hard to find. When she did set sight on him, he was nestled in a corner talking to Chip and Blythe. For once, Blythe didn’t look appalled by his natural ease of life and charm, or wary of what he represented for her friend. Ruby took that as a good and very bad sign.

There was no way she could face Blythe in her state. She was like a drug hound and would immediately sense Ruby’s double-intoxication. And her fucked out mind. Well, not completely but the want was there.

Harry looked up, meeting her eye. She nodded her head toward the door, mouthing _can we go? Don’t feel good_.

His excuse of absence to the hosts was immediate. He deposited his flute of water on a table and beelined to her. “S’matter? Head? Tummy?” Harry frowned when she gave no answer. He took her chin in his hand and tilted her head back. A scarlet smile drifted over his lips. “Blimey, sunflower. You’re totally baked, aren’t you?”

All she could do was nod.

He tossed an arm around her, the way Fresno had only moments ago. He led her to the door and steadied her on the porch. “Let me just order an Uber and we’ll be solid. Your place or mine-?”

“Manning, cool your jets a sec!”

Fresno came slipping from the party. He jolted to a stop before closing the door behind him.

“Calv-.” She began, in dire need to escape whatever fiasco was about to unfold. She could not handle a declaration of his undying love for her. Not with her head spinning and Harry right between them.

“Here. Can’t forget this.” He held her blue leather purse up before her face. “Alyse said it was yours. Figured I oughta catch you.”

She reached and took the purse from him. She slid it over her shoulder. “Thank you. Would’ve been lost without my wallet and my keys.”

His smile was megawattage and just as blinding. “Hey,” he clapped his hand around Harry’s shoulder, “thanks for taking her home. I would’ve given her a ride, but I’m stoned silly and I’ve had a few drinks.”

Ruby rolled her lips together. Harry’s eyes widened at the revelation bomb Fresno unwittingly dropped. He looked between them, only saying a short, “Yeah,” in response.

“Night, Ruby Manning. Catch ya on the flip side of the shake and bake.” Whatever the _fuck_ that meant.

“Goodnight, Calv.”

Harry cleared his throat, the noise stopping Calvin from returning to the party just quite yet. “Mate, uh,” he motioned his hand to Fresno’s neck and then his own, just above the collar of his shirt, “’fore you go back…You’ve got some uh…some…”

Ruby squinted. Hell. If it couldn’t get any worse. There was a streak of dark pink lipstick across Fresno’s neck, half obscured by his rumpled collar.

Pink lipstick the exact same shade as Ruby’s.

Fresno’s cheeks turned a ruddy red. “Shit, man. Solid, thanks dude.” He furiously rubbed the spot until it was clean. “Messy eater, you know.” With a crooked grin.

He bid another quick goodbye before rejoining the party inside.

Fuck. There was no way her night could get any worse. The Uber pulled up, honking once. Thank God for an escape. Not from Harry, never from him. Their friendship bound them so tight together it was womb (or ten) to tomb for them. If she didn’t ruin it before then with her unrequited feelings.

“So-.” Harry started after her as she beelined to the street.

“I do _not_ want to talk about it.” She said, throwing open the backdoor of the sedan. She clambered inside and pushed herself all the way to the other side of the bench seat.

Harry only thinking she had gotten high was one thing. Harry only thinking she got high with Fresno was another. Harry knowing she got high _and_ made out with Fresno was a nightmare. Was she ashamed? No. Guilty? She didn’t have a reason to be, but yes. Mostly, she was embarrassed because it never should have happened. On what planet was she the girl who got crossed at her best friend’s anniversary cocktail and made out with a poor fucker who’d been enamored with her for five years?

This one, apparently.

Harry climbed in after her, having the good sense to keep the middle seat between them. “I just-.” As he pulled the door shut.

“Harry,” she cut his words off as the car lurched forward, “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

_So pour me a drink, oh, love_

_Let’s split the night wide open and we’ll see everything_

_We can livin’ love in slow motion, motion, motion_

The only thing worse than the actual act of being cross-faded, was the next morning. Head still fogged and muddled by clouds of smoke and droplets of crystalline champagne with a name she couldn’t pronounce. Body heavy and limp as spaghetti noodles. All at once the world was too bright and too frosted over.

Water too hot and then too cold. No perfect temperature available, she sufficed for freezing as she splashed water on her face. Even showered in cold water. Maybe if she felt worse for last night’s transgressions, she would have burned her skin with scalding water in the attempt to scrounge any trace of Fresno’s lips, fingers, breath, cologne. But she didn’t feel bad.

There was no reason to feel bad.

If Harry wanted to judge her, so be it. More power to him. But he couldn’t make her feel bad or any other way unless he was going to drop some earth-shattering revelation like he harbored feelings for her or something.

As if that would ever happen.

She had woken up with a text from him inquiring about breakfast. Well, not really an inquiry but a statement saying they’d be dining at Waffle House. So when the seven harsh knocks on her apartment door, followed by a raspy iteration of her name, she finally got off the couch and trudged to the bathroom.

She’d slept in her makeup and her dress, too exhausted to bother with any of it. The echo of fingers roaming over her thighs and hips. Except, in her dream, it was Harry touching her. Not Fresno.

Ruby grabbed the hand towel and rubbed it over her face.

“Ruby Jane, you alive?”

She couldn’t throat out the response, head swimming and vision flurrying. Instead, she shed her clothes and traded them in for a pair of cotton shorts and oversized tee. Sliding on a pair of Birkenstocks and swiping her glasses from the dresser, she left her room. She grabbed her purse and threw open the door.

Harry, naturally, looked perfect. Hair tousled into impeccably unkept waves, smile wide, hands bearing two cups of coffee.

“Mornin’, sunshine.” He offered her a cup. “Black, regular. It’ll fix ya right up.”

She took the cup before stepping out into the hall and pulled the door shut with her foot. She dug her sunglasses from her bag and slid them onto her face. “Don’t talk so loud. I think I’m dead.”

Her usual hangover joke always drew laughter. From Alyse, though, a shake of the head before a chuckled agreement. Harry gave her a deadpan look.

“Not funny, angel.” He muttered. She cocked an eyebrow. “If you were dead, I’d be in hell.”

Not even Waffle House looked appealing. A sure sign something was amiss because there was no hangover a breakfast platter massed with grease couldn’t cure.

“Barely touched your grits.” Harry was on his second coffee of the morning. His incessantly cheery attitude was making her almost as sick as her eggs. “Still feelin’ bit rough?”

Ruby nodded, shooting her coffee a dirty look. Black coffee was the bane of her existence, but he was pouring it in her like water. The half-full cup was her fourth. He insisted it would make her feel better. So far, he was wrong. And he was holding the cream and sugar hostage on his side of the table so there was no way she could sneak any.

“I think I made a mistake.” She mumbled.

Her stomach would be vengeful for the rest of the day. And she had no idea how long it would take before her head stopped swimming. She just wanted to spend the rest of the day. curled up watching bad reality tv in the attempt of being ready to go back to work tomorrow.

“It may not have been your best idea but I wouldn’t go so far as to say snogging Fresno was-.”

Ruby’s head snapped up to look at him. “I was talking about getting crossed a Blythe’s uber fancy party.” She cut off his sentence. Though a little too late, it was nice to know he didn’t agree with her choice. Where the disagreement came from, though, she had no clue. Not that it mattered. She was on the way to getting over him. “But okay.”

Harry sighed, ducking his head. “I only meant…” he lifted his head slowly, running his fingers through his hair, “I jus’ thought ya didn’t feel tha’ way about him.”

Ruby raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you have to be in love with someone to make out with them?” He had been relentless in his denial of ever having feelings for Francesca while they messed around. Or did whatever. Jules has been trying her best not to think about Harry and Francesca so consumed in one another. “I mean, you weren’t in love with Francesca, right?”

It was a low blow, and she knew it. But she was annoyed and hungover and he wasn’t making any of it any better. She didn’t need to be harped on for her choices. She was a grown-ass woman, almost 25, and if she wanted to make out with someone she was kind of friends with then by God she would.

He grimaced before turning his head away from her. “That’s different.”

No fucking kidding.

“You’re right.” She began cleaning up her plates. “It is. Calv’s not a bloodsucking bitch.” She stood up from the table, fishing two twenty-dollar bills from her wallet and throwing them on the table.

“Ruby-.”

“I’m so not in the mood to do this with you today, Harry. It was just a kiss for fuck’s sake, it didn’t mean anything. Jesus, even Calvin knows that.”

“I only meant-.”

“ _What?_ ” She snapped at him before slinging her purse over her shoulder and side-stepping out of the booth. “What did you mean? He’s my friend, Harry. I know him and I trust him. So if I want to shove my tongue down his throat, I can.”

He blinked up at her. Green eyes unreadable and clouded. He was leaned against the back of his booth seat, hands limp in his lap. It was one of the only times she had ever seen him look so dejected and worn down. Her heart stung at the way his pink lips were turned down in a minuscule pout.

She honestly wasn’t sure why she was so worked up. There was no reason to be yelling at him in a Waffle House at noon.

His eyes flickered to his plate of waffles before meeting her gaze again. “I’m your friend. You trust me.” He said quietly.

She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. What was he…? Was he…? No, surely not. She clamped her mouth shut to swallow before saying, “You’re my _best_ friend, H. That means there are lines with us that can’t be crossed.” Lines so heavily blurred she never knew when she was mis-stepping. “It’s not like that with him. There’s nothing to really mess up with Calvin. I mean,” she laughed hoarsely, “if I shoved my tongue down your throat, we’d have some big problems.”

It physically hurt her to say it. She bit down on her tongue as she watched him formulate a response. Something smooth and witty to glide off her remark about shoving her tongue down his throat. He’d probably be mortified to death if she ever pulled something like that.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “definitely a line we don’t wanna cross.”

And even though she was the one to set the boundary, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt her any less when he agreed.

“I heard from a little birdie that you and Fresno Fletcher were pretty hot and heavy the other night.” Alyse churned the weathered Bronte novel over in her hand before stopping to examine the spine. She dropped the book into the plastic basket. “Dish, Manning.”

It’d been a day since Ruby bit Harry’s head off inside the Waffle House near her apartment building. Two days since she locked herself in a bathroom at Blythe’s anniversary party and had almost let fucking Calvin Fletcher take her virginity.

Fuck. There were only three people who could’ve told her. Ruby heavily doubted that Francesca had said anything. There was no way Harry reached out and said anything- right? Which left…

“He blabbed?” Ruby groaned.

“It’s _true_?” Alyse stared back at her.

Ruby looked at her from across the register counter. Alyse had only been in the store for half an hour and Ruby had already managed to blurt out a secret. She knew that Alyse would never tell Blythe, but she felt skeevy admitting her hookup with Fresno. After all, it was common knowledge that Ruby couldn’t stand him. Well, former common knowledge.

Chip had been right. Fresno had really matured since graduating from UCLA. He wasn’t unbearable to be around anymore. Ruby actually found him staggeringly charming in a strange way. His bold honesty and forthright attitude were a blissful difference from how most guys interacted with her.

She couldn’t even place anymore what about him had been so annoying in the first place. Oh, right. The short-temper. Lack of thought before action. Ignorance of consequence.

“No.” Alyse smirked, proud of having set the perfect trap. “Well, not to me, anyway. He told Weimar and Weimar told Mandy and-.”

“Mandy told you.” She muttered under her breath.

Alyse picked up a second-hand Dostoyevsky. She flipped through the pages absently. “If it’s any consolation, we totally thought it was a lie. Even Weimar was convinced he was fucking around.”

On some scale, Ruby was annoyed that so many people found it inconceivable for her to have wound up lip-locked with Fresno. People hooked up with people they hated all the time. God forbid she see any sort of action, especially if it was with former Enemy #1. It wasn’t like she planned on marrying him or anything. Even he was aware her relationship status was always and forever _off-limits_.

She didn’t plan on being single forever (or being a virgin forever) and if Calvin Fletcher was the first step on a new path, then so be it. There were worse options.

“Just help me make sure Blythe never knows.” Ruby mumbled as Alyse dumped her basket of books on the counter. “If she finds out I got crossed _and_ almost screwed Fresno in her guest bathroom, she’ll murder me.” She probably wouldn’t even make it look like an accident. Knowing Blythe, she’d happily confess to avenging the supposed insult. 

Alyse’s eyes widened. Ruby began to scan the books, dropping them into a paper bag. “And you were crossed?” Alyse hissed. “Shit, Ruby.” She paused before digging her debit card from her wallet. “Harry know?”

All it took was one look.

“Oh, hell. What’d he say?”

Ruby shrugged, taking the card and sliding it into the chip reader. “We got in an argument about it yesterday. He really made me mad and I said some things I maybe shouldn’t have.”

“You always do when you’re upset.” Alyse sighed when Ruby handed the card back wrapped in a receipt. “Look, do I agree completely with you shacking up with Fresno? Not really. But he’s a good guy. If you’re resolved to never telling Harry how you feel, that’s fine. I’ll support you in whatever. Just…”

“Just?”

“Fresno likes you, you know that. You can be a little bit of a heartbreaker, Manning, so don’t crush his too badly on your road to recovery or whatever.”

_So kiss me where I lay down_

_My hands pressed to your cheeks_

_A long way from the playground_

**Meet me.**

Other than an obscure address, that was all Harry’s out-of-the-blue text said. Ruby contemplated for about five minutes, standing at the edge of the sidewalk outside Jupiter House. Go home or meet him?

By the time she was settling into the backseat of a cab and repeating off the address from the text, she wasn’t sure why she even bothered weighing her options in the first place. There was, as always, no question when it came to Harry. Somewhat like the way it was with all her friends but with the waning hope that a surprise declaration of undeterred feelings would be involved.

The text really was from nowhere. They hadn’t spoken in the least since her blowup at Waffle House yesterday. Considering that they’d been nearly inseparable since his arrival to Los Angeles and no text sits longer than an hour or two without going answered, it’s the longest they’ve gone without speaking since officially meeting.

When the time came to pay the driver, she slipped a twenty in his hand and got out of the car without looking to inspect where she was. She hoisted her bag further up her shoulder before taking a glance around. A neighborhood in the Hills, probably not far from Blythe’s own mansion. You know, she wouldn’t even call it a neighborhood. More like a smattering of rich-ass houses that all probably had their _own_ neighborhoods inside. Each gated and privatized. Each way too blocked off for even Blythe’s liking. Which said a lot in itself.

Ruby turned to look at the house- rather, the gate in front of her. Stone, with a gorgeous double-swing wooden gate. Vines and tree leaves hanging overtop to give no illusion to what lay beyond. Security keypad and an intercom. Was Harry _here_? And if so, what the fuck for?

She was in the land of Range Rovers and Audis, Fendi bags and Prada sunglasses. Lost as hell. As soon as the third BMW drove by, she had her phone out and was calling Harry. By a miracle, he answered on the first ring.

“Hey, you outside?”

Ruby whetted her bottom lip as she narrowed her eyes at the looming car gate. “Maybe…? Did you give me the wrong address?” He asked her to read off the address he sent. She put the phone on speaker and repeated it back to him.

“Nope, you’re here. Big ass gate?”

“Uh-huh.”

He mumbled something and she heard a muffled reply. Was he with someone? Oh, God, was he _with_ someone? The double-gate beeped before swinging open away from the street-side.

“Meet you at the door,” was all he said before hanging up.

She pocketed her phone and stepped through the gates.

If she would have had any expectations, the mansion would have blown them out of the water. It was like something from a book or a movie. French double-doors, vines crawling up stone walls, lush green grass decorated with pale stepping-stones. The front door was thrown open, Harry standing in the frame. He looked out of place and right at home all at once. Dressed in a loose white blouse and high-waisted envy green velvet bellbottoms, eggshell shoes. Tousled waves pushed back by a pair of round-frame sunglasses.

“Hey, angel.”

He was a thousand times more timid than he had been on the phone. She supposed it was easier to be brave when you weren’t faced with the indominable problem person. Ruby had half the mind to stay mad at him, or at least be a little cross, but he looked like someone from one of her wildest dreams and he was pretty impossible to stay mad at. And if she considered their almost lifelong friendship and his driving need to look out for her, she considered the Fresno situation dead and buried.

“Hiii.” She drew it out before drawing him in for a hug. The instant his arms were around her and his nose nuzzling into her hair, she couldn’t remember why they had argued in the first place. But she knew all too well the trouble she was getting herself in the longer the hug lasted. “So, uh,” she pulled away and plucked his sunglasses off his head, “what are we doing here? If this is a dinner party, I’m way underdressed.”

Standing next to him in her denim shorts and worn tee advertising Grant’s company was just the reality check she needed. He was rich and famous, and she was…neither, to put it kindly.

“C’mon in.” He grinned, pulling her inside. Neither bothered to shut the front door.

The inside was just as grand as she could have imagined. Greeted by a curved marble staircase adorned with black iron railing and a balcony that overlooked the foyer, white marble flooring, and four separate directions to go: left, right, towards the back, or up the stairs.

“Edison’s waiting for us in the kitchen.” Like their fight never happened, as if they were the same they’d always been, he grabbed her hand and pulled her along. She couldn’t find the words to argue that she was way underdressed for any sort of get-together (especially when he looked like _that_ ). It wasn’t a full minute later that she realized the house was practically empty. And when they entered the huge kitchen, she scrapped her assumption that Edison was a guy.

Because Edison was very much a woman.

Oblivious to the two of them, she was leaned over a piece of the countertop, scrawling away on a legal pad, sharply directing someone on the phone. Harry cleared his throat, she peered up, promised to call whoever it was back, and grinned.

“You must be the elusive Ruby Manning.” She strode across the space and enveloped her in a hug. “Edison Barclay, Harry’s told me so much about you.”

All she could do was smile and say, “Good things, I hope,” because Harry had never once mentioned this person to her.

“The way he talks, I’m sure he thinks there’s not a thing bad about you.” Edison grinned as she stepped away to grab her things. Harry cleared his throat again before scratching the side of his neck. “Should we get started then? Here?”

Harry said that was fine.

Ruby looked up at him to try and catch his attention, but he was clearly ready to hang on every word Edison was about to provide.

“Pretty standard kitchen. Double oven with a pasta arm built in overhead. Plenty of cabinet space. Microwave with the wine fridge below. The fridge,” Edison walked over to what Ruby had incorrectly assumed was more cabinet and pulled open one of the narrow doors, “built to blend with the cabinets, aesthetic purpose, of course.” She shut the door. “You’ve got garbage disposal and a dishwasher. Through here,” she moved towards the arched frame, “is the dining room.”

She walked as she talked, Harry and Ruby following behind. The dining room had china cabinets built into the walls and a large window that allowed for a scenic view of the back lawn. At least, a fraction of it. She led them through the house, having memorized its entirety to a tee. The living room, the den, the library that had built in shelves on every wall and cozy fireplace, the three guest bedrooms and five bathrooms of the _main_ house. The living room and den also came with fireplaces. Each guest room had a balcony attached. The master bedroom was ginormous, with an extended balcony that overlooked the pool and a bathroom that would probably fit her whole apartment. The master bathroom itself had three vanities, a Roman-esque bathtub in the middle of the room, doors to the his and hers closets, and the stone half-wall separated the walk-in shower that looked big enough to fit five people comfortable and had a fucking bench. In the basement was a wine cellar that Edison said fit nearly six thousand bottles but could easily be used for other liquors.

The back lawn was extravagant with a stone firepit, a gorgeous pool surrounded by chaises and stepping-stones, and a spa area. The guest house was a miniature version of the main house, with three bedrooms and four bathrooms.

The whole property was like something in an ad for a villa out in the French countryside. Was she still in California? Sure, she’d seen her share of episodes of _Keeping Up with The Kardashians_ , but their combined houses had nothing on this.

“What do you think?” Harry leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Like it?”

Edison had excused them to take a call, leaving them alone by the pool. Ruby sat down on the nearest chaise.

“Uh, yeah. It’s amazing, H, but do you really need a house here _and_ in London?”

He shrugged, sitting down next to her. “M’getting tired of stayin’ in hotels when I’m here. Besides, I’m in L.A. just as much as I am London, so it makes sense to have my own place.”

She didn’t say anything. What was she supposed to say anyway? If he wanted the place, he should get it. It was his hard-earned money and he could very well do with it what he wanted.

“Did ya like the second bedroom in the main house?” He nudged her knee. _Of course, I did_ , she replied with a smile. “Figured it could be yours.”

Hers. _Hers?_

Was he…There was no way he was asking her to move in with him. Right? No. She wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t do that. Could she?

“Harry…I can’t move in here. It’s way too big and you’d be gone a lot. I couldn’t live here alone.” Even though it was its own gated community with a top-of-the-line security system. She wasn’t the biggest fan of big spaces.

“Not askin’ ya to move in, silly angel. Only thought maybe you’d like your own room for when you stay over. Lines and all.”

_There are lines with us that can’t be crossed._

So, sleeping in the same bed was a line not to be crossed again. Got it.

“Oh.” Her tongue was all of a sudden too fat for her mouth. “Right. Yeah,” she cleared her throat, “I like the place. Really like the library, lots of book room.”

He smiled and patted her knee affectionately. “Knew you would. Thought maybe you could fill it up for me? You know all the good books, so you could just pick a lot of stuff out from Jupiter House and have it sent here.” She nodded, saying she’d like that. “Just make sure to throw some Bukowski in there. And save a big spot for your novel. Want the very first copy of it, signed and sealed.”

“Long as I get the first copy of the new album, signed and sealed.”

They looped their pinkies together and kissed their respective thumbs. _Signed and sealed,_ they mumbled under their breaths.

“So,” Edison hopped back across the stones, “what’s the decision?”

“He’ll take it.” Ruby grinned.

_I have loved you since we were 18_

_Long before we both thought the same thing_

_To be loved and to be in love_

_All I could do is say that these arms were made for holding you_

_I wanna love like you made me feel when we were 18_

Every few minutes, her phone vibrated with the promise of a new Snapchat. And every time, the picture was from Harry. Each an update of how the bedroom in the new house was coming along. A picture he had just put up, the comforter freshly made on the bed, how he had the night table decorated. As he finished each little detail, she was rewarded with a picture as proof.

All while she was flittering around the bookstore picking out books to stock his library with. A slow Sunday (they all were, honestly), there hadn’t been a customer in sight in the four hours they’d been open. So far, she had collected a copy of every Charles Bukowski they had in stock, sprinkled in some classics of the likes of the Bronte sisters and Oscar Wilde, she naturally had to throw in some Jane Austen. She littered the rest of the cardboard boxes with some psychological thrillers, mysteries, coming-of-age, and more. Harry struck her as the type to be up to read anything. She didn’t want to completely fill the shelves on her own; she wanted him to pick out some books for himself.

“Do I need to talk to Daddy about giving you a raise?”

Ruby glanced back over her shoulder to see Derry putting a paper bag on the checkout counter. She had texted about an hour ago promising to provide lunch.

“Huh?” Ruby dropped her final selection in the third (and last) box.

Derry gestured to the box and then the two full ones on the counter. “Thought you got paid enough to buy books, not steal them.”

Ruby rolled her eyes before standing up. She lifted up the box and carried it to place on the counter with the others. From behind the counter, she swiped the packaging tape and began taping up all the boxes. She had run through the stock catalogue twice to pick out books before making a list and printing it off to use as a check list. The same list, scribbled and scratched over was next to the register for her to use when Harry came by later to pick the books up. And, she supposed, to get her as well since he had promised to swing by around closing.

“They’re Harry’s.” Ruby waved it off. “He bought a house the other day and he asked me to pick out some books for the library.”

Derry pointedly looked at the three boxes before raising an eyebrow. “Some? Looks like half the store’s going to him.” It only took a second before the actual news set in with her. “Oh, my God! He bought a house? In L.A.? Is he staying here for good? Holy crap! How many kids are you gonna have? I feel like four, you guys totes give off big family vibes. I can so-.”

“Derry.” Ruby held up a hand. “Chill.” The teenager clamped her mouth shut. “He’s not moving here. He just got the place so he wouldn’t have to keep staying in hotels. And we are not together, so don’t bring up the kid thing, okay?”

It was hard enough getting over him on her own, she didn’t need everyone else weighing her down with their lovelorn expectations. That was a happily ever after she didn’t see herself getting.

By the time midnight rolled around, half a jalapeno and green pepper pizza remained in the box, alongside a mostly demolished carton of veggie pad thai, and one wall of the library shelf was close to being filled.

Harry hadn’t been sure on how he wanted to arrange the shelves, so he left all the work for her. She directed and he placed. In the end, the books were separated by genre and then arranged by author in alphabetical order. Except the Bukowski’s. Those all remained on the middle shelf for easiest access.

“Think it looks pretty good.” Harry crossed his arms over his chest.

Ruby nodded before sipping her third beer of the night. “You’re welcome.” He grabbed her beer and put it on one of the empty shelves. After, he took her hand and pulled her from the room. “Where are you taking me?”

“Big surprise. You’ll love it, swear.”

He maneuvered, covering her eyes with his hands as he shepherded her through the house. After a few seconds, she relented to closing her eyes since she couldn’t see through his hands. The rings that littered over his fingers were, surprisingly, warm from all the work they’d been doing the past few hours. Even his hands smelled of a sweet cologne that often percolated in the curls of his hair and lingered on his clothes.

“Steps, easy.” Breath a hot fan over the shell of her ear, she almost tripped when his lip grazed over the sensitive spot. “Have you got a sweet spot, little angel?”

Fuck her. Fuck him. He made it impossible to _not_ be attracted to him. As if every movement, every word, every goddamn look was cultured to solicit a spongy response from whoever was on the receiving end. She was quickly coming to the conclusion that maybe there was no saving herself when it came to him. She would simply, forever, always be hopelessly in love with him and he would simply, forever, always never know.

As suffocating, bereaving, and exhausting as it was to keep the secret, Ruby had to yield to the fact that perhaps there was no getting over him.

She swallowed the lump in her throat that was quickly forming an illicit response to his question in the shape of suggesting something far too clandestine for the territory of friendship. Instead, she opted for something way worse, “Yeah, but it’s not there.”

The chuckle he followed with reverberated in her skull as she fought off a sigh of relief. She didn’t have a plan for what would have come next if he had replied with something on par with the way the conversation turned.

“Here we are. Eyes shut?” She hummed a _yes_ in response. His hands lifted from her face and a door swung open. “’Kay, open those pretty eyes of yours.”

The first thing she noticed was the flowers. Bouquets and bouquets of sunflowers. On the night table. On the dresser. In the small vase on a floating shelf. 

The bed was probably the same size as the one at her apartment, with a curved wicker headboard and a plush looking green and white checked comforter. A white knit blanket lay folded in the velvet green lounge chaise. From her position outside the room, the gauzy curtains looked white but when she stepped for closer inspection, she realized they were embroidered with tiny sunflowers.

Her favorite picture of them from his concert was framed on the wall, right next to a photo of her with the girls. The floating shelves on the wall held copies of all the books she remembered telling him she read over and over again. _Pride and Prejudice_ , _Emma_ , _A Walk To Remember_ , all her favorite love stories. A non-descript leatherbound book with no title on a shelf alone.

The desk seated with a cushioned desk chair. A mint-colored typewriter with a stack of applicable paper next to it. A cup full of fountain pens.

“Harry…”

He was leaned against the jamb, arms crossed, proud smile on his face. “M’callin’ it the Sunflower Room.”

 _The Sunflower Room_.

“When did you do all this?” She whispered as her fingers danced over the keys of the typewriter. He had sent her pictures of the progress of his own room all day. There was no way he had time to do all this and his own room.

He shrugged. “Did my room this morning and stockpiled pictures to send you. Spent most of the day fixin’ this one up for ya. D’ya like it?”

 _Like_ seemed too trivial. Even _love_ didn’t hold a candle to how she felt.

Ruby catapulted across the room and launched herself into his arms. Like he had expected the very response, he caught her with ease and framed his body around hers. “It’s amazing, H. Thank you so much, I love it.” She murmured against his neck.

He squeezed around her once before letting her go. “One more thing.”

Something else? God, what else could he-?

“Here.” He fished it out of his pocket and snuck it into her fisted hand.

The metal was warm and parts of it jagged around her fingers. She unfolded her hand to see the mustard-hued key. Engraved at the top, _RJM_. “Is this…?”

He nodded, “Yup. Key to the house.” Harry shoved his hands in his pockets.

Ruby swallowed, admiring the key. The room. Him. It was final. There was no getting over him. She would live out all her days stuck in this hellish limbo of being his friend and being

completely head over heels for him. The only plausible escape was to completely cut him off and she would have rather died than live without him.

“Jus’ so ya know, you can come over whenever.” Harry slid his arm over her shoulders. “Even when I’m not in town. Can be your little hideaway. Just…”

“Just what?” She peeked up at him.

“Promise not to use the kitchen. New house and all, can’t have it goin’ up in flames ‘cause you tried to make noodles.”

_When we were 18_

_Oh lord when we were 18_

_So kiss me where I lay down_

_My hands pressed to your cheeks_

_A long way from the playground_

When the week passed, the Palm Drive house was completely finished.

Ruby spent those six days holed up with Harry. Between work, furniture shopping, rearranging, and unpacking his clothes, she was firmly exhausted. By the fifth night, the guest house was finished, and he had all but forced the band to give up the Sunset Marquis and stay in the house with him for the duration of their Los Angeles stay. And by one in the morning of the sixth night, he had decided the next weekend he was throwing a house-warming party and all of Ruby’s friends were required to attend.

The fire crackled over the burning logs in the pit, emitting a low heat. The night was cooling down and she wasn’t sure if it was the promise of early autumn weather or the fact that the pool had been surprisingly chilly, and her hair was still wet. Harry had long since draped a quilted blanket over their legs and exchanged the tequila for water.

Jeff and Glenne could be heard giggling in the pool, water splashing every so often as one of them let out a low squeal. Mitch remained on one of the chaises, Sarah between his legs, as he tried to strum his guitar from around her. Alex retired earlier on, citing an undefeatable migraine. Adam and Clare were experimenting with beats on the chaises next to Mitch and Sarah, every so often repeating something and then recording it on a phone to explore at a later date in the studio.

“Ruby.”

He sounded far off, closer to sleep than wake, voice groggy and hoarse. Much like it was when he first woke in the mornings.

“Hmm?”

He pulled away an inch or two, just enough to meet her gaze. Firelight flickered over his face, shadowing the sharper structures and illuminating his eyes. “I’m sorry about the other day. I shouldn’t have dug into your business with Fresno. I wasn’t judging you or-.”

“Harry-.”

His finger was soft, but quick when it pressed against her lips.

“You’re my best friend, sunflower. You know? And I only…I jus’ want what’s best for ya. And you deserve someone who knows you. And what you want.” Harry’s finger rolled circled patterns over her knee. Though the quilt provided a barrier from skin-to-skin, his tracings still left her skin burning. “Not just any old lad off the street, yeah?”

She swallowed, concentrating on the fire. A feat that proved difficult when he seemed intent on having all her attention. “Yeah,” she said thickly, “I know. I’ll find him one day.” As if he wasn’t sitting right next to her, drawing the pad of his forefinger over her knee.

His worry was more endearing now that it had been last week. Now that her anger was dissipated and rational thought had returned, she remised ever snapping at him in the first place. He was hardly the person to be judgmental in any case and every observance of action came from a place of love and concern.

If only he was the guy right beside her. Didn’t the experts say you should always be with your best friend? Then again, if that was true, maybe she belonged with Alyse, Mandy, or Blythe. Well, not Blythe because Ruby knew a lot about other people in love and Blythe was meant to be with Chip.

Harry shifted and she raised her head from his shoulder. “So, what do you want?” He inquired. “You know, in a guy.”

The easy answer, the one she couldn’t give, was him. _You_ , she would have said. She should have said. But the part of her that feared rejection, his rejection, wouldn’t allow the answer to breathe a wink of life.

The thing was, she knew exactly the kind of guy she wanted. Years of analyzing the love in books and films had left her subject to hours of self-observation and the reflection of all men she held previous interest or feeling towards. Her acute awareness of exactly what she wanted and what she deserved left her privy to knowing exactly the man she wanted. And though she couldn’t say his name, she could describe him.

 _You_ , but she’d never dare say.

So, instead, she said, “Someone who cares, you know? I want a guy who can actually _show_ that he cares. Not just when it’s us either.” Her father left her haunted with impossible standards to be met. The heroes of her romance novels flooded her brain with ideas of love no normal man seemed to be able to reach or hand over.

“’Kay, what else?” Harry asked.

Not that she didn’t mind sharing her hopes and dreams with him- he was her best friend, after all- but there were things she felt too trivial, too silly, to give him in words. He’d never poke fun of her, not outwardly. “It’s gonna sound dumb.”

In his typical Harry fashion, voice sweet and soft and full of nothing but sublime tenderness, “Say it anyway.” He had a habit of forcing her truths and never letting her be afraid of repercussion. Mostly, because he never gave a negative response.

As someone who believed candidly and whole-heartedly in epic romance and all-powerful love, Ruby Jane Manning was subject to all sorts of mushy-gushy and ooey-gooey fantasies of her perfect relationship. For her, love was more than physical intimacy. It was the deepest knowledge of the other person’s heart and soul, an intimacy of the mind and spirit. Being so in tune with one another, you operated on the same wavelength.

“I always imagined someone who wrote me little notes and left them around for me to find. And picked up little trinkets that made him think of me. Maybe he’d surprise me with four dozen of my favorite flowers on Valentine’s Day.” She admitted. Forty-eight luminous sunflowers waiting. A treasure hunt of heartfelt notes on any sort of scrap paper lying around.

“Sunflowers.” Harry supplied. Because he was never one to forget how much she adored the yellow flower. Even if yellow was no longer her favorite color.

“Y-Yeah.” She whispered. “And the rest of the day, we’d just spend together. In love, happy, just us.”

Valentine’s Day was her one select holiday. Even though she had never had a boyfriend on the day, she always managed to go all-out for Galentine’s Day. Celebrated the day before February 14th, she and the girls always got together in their nicest clothes, treated each other to a fancy dinner and drinks, gorged on chocolate, and swapped gifts. And she always, always bough a gift for each of her loved ones, and one for herself.

Harry stared back at her. His lips turned down in a frown. “That’s your ideal Valentine’s Day? I expected something a little…more.” 

Ruby grinned, shaking her head. “Oh, no. My ideal Valentine’s Day is _way_ too much. It’s. embarrassing.”

There was no way she was giving up that information. Not even her girlfriends knew her dream love day date. It was too much and it would most likely never happen.

“Ruby Jane, c’mon, tell me.”

She pulled her knees up to her chest. There really wasn’t a harm in telling him. He knew everything- well, almost everything- about her. Divulging her super-secret ultimate Valentine’s Day wish couldn’t hurt. It was the least damning of her secrets.

“We’d be in Paris. And…he’d wake me up with breakfast in bed.” Harry made a sly comment about her utterly romantic heart that she chose to ignore. “It’d be French toast with strawberry topping. French press coffee, it’s my favorite, you know, but I’m so lazy.”

He laughed quietly. “Keep on,” as his fingers danced up her arm.

“Just be a bit of a lazy morning. Laying in bed and cuddling. And we’d walk around the city and get lunch at one of those sweet bistros and we’d feed each other macaroons.”

Harry cut his eyes. “Food and walking through the city? That’s it?” He gawped at her. “My romantic angel, on a no-expenses spared Valentine’s Day and all she dreams of is trekking through the City of Love and eating macaroons?”

She shoved him with her shoulder, biting back a laugh. “Day’s not over yet! That’s just up to lunch!” He begged her to continue. “Well, after lunch, we’d go shopping. You know that scene in Pretty Woman where Richard Gere takes Julia Roberts shopping and he helps pick out her clothes? I’ve always wanted a guy to do that with me, pick out my outfit for a date. It’s so-.”

“Romantic?” Harry offered.

With a shake of her head, “Hot.”

Harry licked over his bottom lip before rolling it in his mouth. “What next?”

She leaned back against the stone backing of the firepit bench and looked up at the sky. The stars were more visible at night in the Hills than from her own apartment. They twinkled above like vivacious faeries. A thin column of smoke from the dying fire swirled up towards the cloudless night sky, directly towards the white half-moon.

“He’s got dinner all planned. We get ready and he’s in a nice suit and I wear the outfit he picked. He blindfolds me and when I take it off, we’re up on the Eiffel Tower.” She told him softly. She could see it if she pictured it hard enough. Her perfect Valentine’s night. Paris spread out before the horizon, a night not so unlike the current. Maybe even Harry as her-.

“Saw that comin’.” He grinned at her.

She rolled her eyes. “Plenty of red wine-.”

“You hate wine.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day! You can’t have a Valentine’s dinner without red wine!” She reminded him. “And there’s a gorgeous dinner with chocolate strawberries for dessert. And flowers. Everywhere. Sunflowers and red roses all around us.”

It was easy to picture something so extravagant. Something she’d never have. Even easier was to picture Harry as the person feeding her macaroons at the bistro in Paris. Waking her up in bed with slow kisses and wandering hands. Sliding a rose into her hair and whispering his love into the crook of her neck.

“That it?” He whispered.

“Uh-huh. Too much, right?”

He shook his head, “Sounds perfect, angel.”

She curled into his open arm, pulling the blanket up around their shoulders. “What’s your ideal Valentine’s Day?”

She wondered just how outlandish his own dream date was. Harry wasn’t quite the romantic she was, but his heart was free and open, and he paraded the idea of love around like a kite in the wind.

“M’not too picky.”

Ruby snorted. “I told you mine. You have to tell me yours.”

It was only right. Simple custom. They were sharing secrets. She gave hers and he had to give his. But if he refused again, she’d let it fall. He was always so protective of her boundaries, she had to be the same. There was no pushing in with them, just waiting outside until the door swung open.

“It’s really nothin’ big. Just a normal day with my girl. None of the fame fuss. We’d just stay in, watch a film, make dinner together.” He regarded her carefully. “Honest, nothing big or anything.”

Looking at him, it made sense. He spent so much time as this firework of a superstar, of course he’d want his one day of intimate love to be just spent alone and quiet with his partner. He remained a very private person when it came to his personal life so naturally the day meant to celebrate love would be done behind closed doors.

She respected how firm he was in his privacy policy and his unwavering need to separate himself from his fame. Harry and Harry Styles were the same and yet two different personas.

“Dinner?” Ruby poked. “I hope to God she’s a better cook than me.”

She didn’t notice how dry his laugh sounded.

_I have loved you since we were 18_

_Long before we both thought the same thing_

_To be loved and to be in love_

_All I could do is say that these arms were made for holding you_

_I wanna love like you made me feel when we were 18_

_I wanna love like you made me feel when we were 18_

_I wanna love like you made me feel when we were 18_


End file.
